The Rise and Fall of Harry J Potter
by Muffliato
Summary: All was well. Truly, it was. Harry Potter was in fact so happy that not even Rita Skeeter's newest biography could spoil things. Okay, fine, so maybe he'd 'forgotten' to mention parts of his past to his loved ones—it wasn't like this disaster could end in Azkaban sentences or pygmy puff invasions, right? Right. He was worrying about nothing... Canon, pre-Epilogue.
1. The Boy Who Lived

**Summary:** All was well. Truly, it was. With loving family and friends, Harry Potter was so happy that not even Rita Skeeter's newest unofficial biography could spoil things. Oh wait, maybe he'd 'forgotten' to mention one or two details about his not-so-pleasant past to his loved ones. But at least Hermione Weasley's plan to transfigure a certain beetle into a button and Ginny Potter's plot to set Headmaster Dumbledore's portrait on fire were both technically legal. Unfortunately, violently hexing the Dursleys was a tad more risky. Canon, pre-Epilogue.

**A/N:** Whoo, brand new story! I'd like to give an ENORMOUS thank you to all the lovely people who offered to edit my work. But I want to give an even bigger thanks to the wonderful **spellmugwump97**, my new beta! I'm beyond thrilled that she wanted to work with me, for not only has she already come up with brilliant ideas (such as having an excerpt from Skeeter's biography open every chapter) and is patiently correcting all my Britishisms, but I've also adored her stories for quite some time. Wait, what? You haven't seen Spell's fics? Then why in Merlin's name are you wasting your time reading this! Go on then, shoo! Come back after you've finished; the red vines will be waiting.

**General Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling is clearly hiding magical powers. My guess? Rita Skeeter decided to try her hand at a new type of biography writing and it paid off in dividends. With that being said, no, I am not the third identity of Rowling/Skeeter. Shame that.

* * *

_"The scarring of Harry James Potter's childhood began Halloween 1981, the infamous night which–with two unforgivable words–spiralled into a legend. Yet while history textbooks have covered this family tragedy and national victory en tedium, the far more scandalous events began the next day. For following a curiously ominous lapse in time, a certain wizard took it upon himself to test the new 'boy-who-lived' moniker._

_Fans of my previous biographical work, "The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore", will be unsurprised to learn that the Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards Member and Hogwarts Headmaster felt no qualms in leaving a baby on a muggle's doorstep with no protective or warming charms on a winter's night. While Wizarding Britain celebrated the end of the First War, the young Mr. Potter was shivering and perfect prey for any free Death Eater. This first 'test' set in motion the Boy Saviour's next ten dark, lonely, abusive years._

_This story of love, fate, death, and destiny truly began when the peaceful suburb of Privet Drive was awoken by a terrified shriek. For in opening her door to put out the milk bottles, Mrs. Petunia Dursley found a letter beside a crying baby with a bright red lightning bolt scar." Prologue excerpt from R. Skeeter's "The Rise and Fall of Harry J. Potter"._

* * *

It was a sleepy day at the Ministry of Magic. The neon green chicken had been caught in the Atrium, the Department of Mysteries hadn't yet had its bi-weekly implosion, and the Department of Magical Games and Sports didn't have their highly illegal hallway-Quidditch-match scheduled until the following Friday.

Even the Auror Office was oddly quiet. Even better, this was not even the ominous kind of silence preceding a coming storm. There was nothing sinister about this tranquility. Abso-bloody-lutely nothing was wrong, and if Auror Ronald Weasley kept repeating this mantra to himself he might even start to believe it.

Ron closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, nibbling on a sandwich as he ignored the pile of paperwork staring up at him accusingly. He was going to relax, damnit. There were no crucial cases pending, Harry was off on a much needed break, and as second-in-command he could arrange his own schedule. So what if he didn't know why he'd been getting funny looks from his comrades all morning? He'd wait until after lunch to confiscate one of those books they kept 'oh-so-subtly' hiding under their desks. But for now he was going to enjoy an hour of food, laziness, and blessed quiet.

"RON!"

His head jerked up, bologna, cheese and bread were sent flying, and the precariously balanced chair toppled over at the sudden scream. A very familiar scream...oh Merlin.

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY, WHERE ARE YOU?" Hermione Weasley's dulcet tone rang out around the Department, making many curious heads poke out from their offices, blanch, and take themselves back out of the line of fire. For while their training as aurors had prepared them for many things, a pregnant, furious war hero and politician was not one of them.

Ron–taking a deep breath and rubbing his bruised back–hopped up from the floor, knocking a mound of parchment from his desk in the process. He, in a panic, surveyed the exits, trying to strategically reason whether his survival was more likely if he ran for the hills or faced the music. Not that he knew what he was in trouble for this time, but Hermione hadn't let that little fact slow her down in the past eighteen years.

Just as Ron decided to summon his broom and flee, his brilliant yet deeply scary wife rushed round around the corner. It took all of us auror training to keep his absolute panic from his face, though he had a feeling he'd failed miserably. But since he had nothing to lose he tried for a boyish, 'I-don't-know-anything-about-nothing-and-don't-you-look-gorgeous-today' winning smile. The auror stepped forward as though he was approaching a hungry Fluffy. "Love? What-GAH!" He only just managed to avoid the book his wife waved furiously in the air. "What was that for? Have you gone mad!"

"Give that to Harry." Anger pierced Hermione's voice as she thrust the book into Ron's stunned arms. With a growl she grabbed his wrist and unceremoniously pulled him down the hallway and the gaping eavesdroppers. "Let him know I've started work on the court cases."

"Wait, what? Court cases?" Ron asked his wife blankly and–foolishly evoking the latter's frustration–forced them to halt. "I'm on duty! I can't just leave and, hold on, why don't you tell him whatever this is yourself?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed; her husband gulped as her hand swayed dangerously close to her wand. "_I'm_ busy trying to contain this mess. But more importantly, Harry and Ginny are both off work today and I'll _NOT _be in the middle of their bursts of accidental magic while pregnant! Or do you want the blob to be an actual blob?"

Ron blinked, still not comprehending what was going on. "Accidental magic? Why would they do that? What in Merlin's balls are you 'containing'?"

"_Language_ Ron!" Hermione groaned restlessly. "If the blob's first word is a curse I'm defenestrating you."

"Can we stop calling him or her a blob?" Ron ignored the unknown word which was most likely a grievously harmful threat. Still, an unconscious smile did appear on his lips (as it always did) at the thought of Rosie or 'the blob'. "Hermione, what's going on?"

"Skeeter's back." She ran a hand through her hair, making her usually manageable bob stick up in curly waves. "It was too much to hope that she'd stick to ruining peoples' reputations in the States. She's back to her old favourite target."

"_Rita Skeeter_?" Ron felt his stomach sink as his hopes for a nice, relaxing day were _crucioed _to pieces. "Don't tell me she's written another article about Harry."

"I wish." His wife chuckled humourlessly and pointed at the book still clutched in his hands. "I don't know who that bug interviewed, but the summary alone is worse than any article." Her anger suddenly shifted to sadness. "She horribly exaggerates everything, so I'm praying that the things I don't know about are just more of her lies. But if not, let Harry know that my staff's looking into arresting those monsters."

Apprehensive yet confused, Ron lifted up the assumingly-innocent book. The cover had a large picture of Harry that must have been taken a few years ago. Diagon Alley was in the background, and from his friend's frown and turn away from the camera the shot was likely candid. But it was the title that captured his attention.

"The Rise and Fall of Harry J. Potter: The Sorcerer's Stone?" Ron felt a weight drop in his stomach, though he silently wondered at the humongous mouthful of a title. "A biography written by Skeeter. Oh Christ, he and Gin will go ballistic. Wait–who are you arresting? The bug is annoying but calling her a monster is a wee bit harsh–either way, she registered her animagus form years ago."

"I can still make her pay through libel and every other charge I can nail to her!" Hermione's eyes glinted with barely restrained anger. Ron only just resisted the urge to lift the large book to protect himself. "But no, I wasn't referring to 'dear Rita' as a monster. _Read the bloody back cover._"

Ron opened his mouth to point out his wife's hypocritical remark but the words froze at her poisonous stare. Instead, he dropped his gaze down as he flipped over the book to read the flowery cursive lines. His expression grew paler with each passing statement; he finally looked back up at Hermione in amazement. "Is she saying that-"

"-which is why I'm looking into it." She replied stiffly, though she reflexively hugged her belly. "It must be an awful lie. But I," her voice stilted, a few tears finally escaping as her mask cracked, "I keep remembering that he, he always refused to talk about his childhood. To mention them. I can't help but think it would explain so much."

Ron gripped the book in hot anger and frustration, wishing that it was enough to make the damn thing disappear or burst into flame. "It's probably only Skeeter being Skeeter. You know better than anyone that she lives to make up scandals. This," he waved the unofficial biography in disgust, "is probably complete trash."

"She got some facts right." Hermione said quietly, fingers twisting her hair as anger dwindled to anxiousness. "I skimmed it to find out how much damage there was. It's, it's horribly exaggerated but accurate in the basics." She wiped her tears away in annoyance. "This book only covers our first year at Hogwarts and has everything from Fluffy, Quirrel, to the Mirror of Erised."

"That doesn't mean everything's true." Ron scowled at the book as though it had personally offended him. "You know he'd have told us if the Dursleys were that bad. Skeeter probably found a source who heard he was estranged from his relatives and she wrote complete rubbish based off of that."

Hermione didn't look as though she believed this, but sighed and gently rubbed her belly. "I hope you're right."

"Don't worry," Ron tried to give her a reassuring smile, "I know it's all lies. Still, this will be a disaster for PR–you said your office is already working on that? Good. I'll run this _thing_ over to Harry and Gin since I'm on lunch; if you want to wait in my office I should have the man of the hour back in a few minutes. Longer if we have to restrain my sister from tracking down the bug."

But his wife shook her head. "I really have to get back to the mountain of work, not to mention stop Skeeter's other biographies from being published. Can you believe she's trying to write one for each of our years at Hogwarts? I can't believe they were able to keep the publication of this secret! Just let Harry know that the libel lawsuits will be going out this afternoon and," she hesitated, "if you're wrong, the warrants for arrest will be ready even sooner."

Ron chuckled weakly. "Even if I'm wrong I doubt the 'highly esteemed' Head Auror would sign those warrants. You know he's a royal noble git." He was turning towards the floo exit when Hermione grabbed his arm.

"Don't dismiss the allegation right from the start, okay?" She murmured quietly. "I hate to think this way, but if this _was_ real it would explain a lot. Harry's disregard for his own safety, his 'saving-peoples-thing', even his panic attack about being a dad before Jamie was born."

"That last one's natural. Merlin knows I stressed out about having little Rosie." Ron's attempt at lightheartedness fell through and he ended with a sigh. "Yeah, I know it was different."

"I'm only saying that if this is true," Hermione said in stilting words, "he'll probably deny it."

"I remember this from training, don't worry so much."

His wife sighed in frustration. "I'm not saying you don't. But no one would confront their best friend and brother-in-law in exactly the same way; don't force it out of him. You wouldn't do that to a regular victim."

"Victim?" Ron ruffled his hand through his hair, his heart sinking lower in anticipation and twinges of guilt. "It's probably a lie anyway. It's _Skeeter_, Hermione. Rita 'I'll-make-up-anything-to-sell-papers' Skeeter. This isn't real."

"But you can't say that to Harry right from the start!" His wife rubbed her forehead tiredly. "He'll only clam up, vehemently deny it all, and say that everything is 'fine'."

"He'd do the same if he thought I was pitying him, especially for something that happened years ago." Ron pointed out, turning back towards the floo. "Really, I know how to handle this."

Hermione bit her lip in worry. "Maybe I should come with you..."

Her husband shook his head with a wiry smile. "It's fine. The worst I'll have to deal with is their awful tempers and talking Ginny down from bugicide. Worst-case scenario, I'll use Jamie or Al as a shield."

She still looked unsure. "Just be gentle."

"With Harry?" Ron chuckled with real amusement. "Forget about him being the Master of Death and Head Auror. Harry survived the popularisation of Angie's awful nicknames: he's invincible. Remember his face the first time he was called 'the-boy-who-apparently-lived-twice-but-is-actually-an-inferus-OH-MY-GOD-RUN!'? Absolutely priceless. I owe Dennis for life for catching it on film."

Hermione smirked slightly, even while a few tears still ran down her cheeks. "Just try not to do anything stupid, okay? Which includes acting like you and calling Harry any of his numerous nicknames."

"No promises on that." Ron said with a mischievous grin before his expression softened. "It'll be fine, you'll see. Harry will be furious at Skeeter for spreading these lies, Ginny will be apoplectic, and we'll set up enough Ministry lawsuits and _Daily Prophet_ retractions that every bloody wizard in Britain will know that the only place for this 'biography' is in the rubbish bin."

"Language Ron!" Hermione scowled lightly, swatting him away when he tried to kiss her. "We've already wasted enough time: go now before they hear about the book from someone else. Get Harry to floo call me as soon as possible!"

"Will do." Ron snuck in a quick kiss on his second try, partly turning his attention away from Hermione's soft lips to smile down at the unseen blob.

"Go!" His wife pushed him away with a smile. "I'll contact Molly and make sure the rest of the family knows."

* * *

**A/N:** I have plenty of guilty pleasures as far as fanfiction goes, but the biggest was a hopeless addiction to 'everyone reads the books' fics. But I'd always jump to the juicy parts, only caring about the characters' reactions to poor Harry's life. Unsurprisingly, I always wished there was a fic that _only_ had that stuff and skipped the rest. So this plot bunny was born. Yet it was put on hold until spellmugwump97, my amazing beta, asked if I could post it up. So in this technically canon fic, Rita Skeeter was able to find out quite a few delicious scandals from the 'boy-who-lived''s Hogwarts years and proceeded to write a series of seven books. These 'biographies' are less than factual but have enough truth in them to thoroughly mess with our favourite tragic hero's life.

While this will be addressed later in the story, 'canon' for this fic is Rowling's work. Skeeter's stories are far more tabloid fodder and insanely extreme, but are vaguely based off of canon if you squint. Thus, the first biography is named "The Sorcerer's Stone" rather than "The Philosopher's Stone". Silly I know, but I really wanted to put in that tidbit.


	2. Through The Trapdoor

**A/N:** Thank you so much for the wonderful response to the first chapter! I'm thrilled that this plot bunny is interesting to others and I swear I'll make this as humorously angsty as can be. The angst bit will be easy since I just had my heart and childhood broken by "The Casual Vacancy" *continues sobbing*. PLEASE let me know if you'd like to see any particular scenes. I have a rough idea of a plot but there's plenty of room to add everything else and the kitchen sink.

And of course, thank you to my wonderful beta spellmugwump97!

**General Disclaimer:** Did Harry sue Skeeter for libel? Nope? Oh damn, I guess I'm not Rowling then.

* * *

_"Harry Potter thought he was an ordinary muggle boy - until he was rescued from his abusive relatives, taken to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, learned to play Quidditch and did battle in a deadly duel. The reason? He was a wizard, the BOY-WHO-LIVED, and a tragic hero who, at eleven, began to stride the line between good and evil._

_"A story of adventure, friendship, and dangerous temptations: Mr. Potter's first year at Hogwarts was extraordinarily magical." Official summary of R. Skeeter's "The Rise and Fall of Harry J. Potter"._

* * *

Rita Skeeter smiled from posters fluttering all over Diagon Alley: on rooftops, doorhandles, banners waving from _Daily Prophet_'s headquarters, to one especially notable case which was permanently stuck on the brick three up and two across from the dustbin in the back of The Leaky Cauldron. Tom had spent all morning trying to hex the dratted thing off to no avail. The photo just smirked, winked, and pointed her poison green Quick-Quotes Quill down to the advertisement:

_'The sensation that's sweeping the nation,_

_the first of Rita Skeeter's biographical series on the man-who-conquered!_

_Hero or Villain?_

_Lion or Snake?_

_All secrets will be uncovered in:_

_The Rise and Fall of Harry J. Potter_

_Get your copy of Book 1, The Sorcerer's Stone, NOW at Flourish and Blotts!'_

Finally acknowledging the futility of his current occupation, Tom turned the screeching photo's hair bright neon pink and let it rest. For the rest of the week, the advertisement would be the focus of a surplus of curses and counter-curses as the restaurant's disgruntled patrons waged a silent war of Skeeter vs. Potter supporters–all in-between scooping out their galleons and heading to the nearest bookstore, that is.

But for this first day barely the start of the soon-to-be sweeping storm could be felt. The average wizards merely gazed at the notices in confusion and considered buying the biography on the off-chance it'd be a good read. Some witches and wizards, pleasantly looking forward to new gossip, took to the stores in droves to get the crisp new hardcovers which contained such promising potential. A third group took to glaring at the advertisements–though Neville Longbottom felt it was more prudent to simply _incendio_ the blasted things–knowing that Skeeter was passionate for smear campaigns, particularly towards a certain man with a lightning bolt scar. A good portion of this final group bought the book grudgingly and in trepidation, not happy to fork over their money to the yellow reporter but needing to know what lies were said so as to combat them. Oddly, these people were the most likely to be seen for the rest of this pivotal first day with their heads arched down, their noses practically touching the page as they snorted in disbelief.

Thus it was that Bill Weasley clumsily made his way down Diagon Alley. He had already bumped into two witches, a low-flying tawny owl, and a grumpy wizard who _had_ carried bottles of potions ingredients. A part of him realised that he should probably care that his robes were now covered with matted ice cream, dripping aconite fluid and sticky feathers, but that and the echoing screams of annoyance from behind him barely registered. Instead, his eyes were trained on the 'now-rather-dirty-but-still-legible' book, scanning from line to line as his horror skyrocketed.

Bill tripped over a mewing goat, apologised to the cursing bearded owner without looking up, scooped the offending biography back into his hands, and hurried on his way with barely a pause. He flicked through the pages–already having scanned it–but stopped towards the end and backtracked at seeing a particularly insane passage:

_"–as we have seen from the Mirror of Erised debacle, poor Harry's heart desire was for a family of his own. One who would hug rather than hurt; sweetly reassure rather than swear; kiss him rather than attempt to kill him. So when You Know Who offered our 'hero' a chance to see his parents once again, there was only one answer the abused boy could make._

_"'...yes.'"_

"That bitch," Bill stiffened before slamming the book shut. His breathing was ragged with anger, "after all he'd done this rubbish comes out? Bloody hell."

A witch cackled as she passed the tall redhead with a fang hanging from his ear. "First sign of madness? Talking to yourself, dearie."

Bill scowled at her back, before transferring the look to the accursed biography for good measure. But though his head was filled with swears and potential hexes he did, however, refrain from shouting anything else aloud. He just couldn't believe Skeeter and wondered what had possessed her to come out with this trash. For Merlin's sake, it wasn't as though anyone could believe that Harry had secretly joined Voldemort! He killed the man and became Head Auror, Christ, this was mental.

In fact, the entire book was insane. Bill sent it another glare to make himself feel better. It was absolute rubbish. The 'Dark Lord Potter' bit was maybe the worst, but everything else was nearly as bad. And what the hell was she thinking making those insinuations about Harry's childhood? Sure, the Dursleys had never been especially pleasant and his brother-in-law didn't mention them much, but jumping from that to abuse?

Shaking his head away from these macabre thoughts, he pushed his way into a particularly colourful shop and saw a cartwheeling firework headed his way. He nonchalantly lifted up the biography, which cushioned the explosion from him quite nicely. As the book lowered and the blindingly bright sparks began to disintegrate, he made out his brother hurtling through a crowd of customers towards him.

"Bill!" George Weasley exclaimed happily, only slight worry creeping into his voice. "Sorry about the firework, you know how touchy these things can be. Hope it didn't hit you and–" he caught sight of the slightly charred book his brother held in a death-grip, "–ah. Damn. You have it then?"

"Who doesn't." Bill said, scowling at the biography before looking at his brother with a softly impeding expression. "I haven't been to see Harry yet–thought it'd be a good idea to check with you or Ron before. So how much of Skeeter's tales are true?"

George winced before turning to his listening assistant. "Euan, take over here? I need to talk to my brother in the back, and keep an eye on the Fizzing Whiz-bangs, seems they don't like the glow-in-the-dark powder overly much."

"Right-o." Euan looked on with curiosity as the Weasleys picked up the offending book and headed out the door. Meanwhile, the back room was even more filled with explosions than usual. Yet there was one odd deviation.

"CHRIST!" Fred Weasley shouted, watching the ruckus from the wall in amazement. Neither of the two occupants noticed George's and Bill's entrance. "ANGIE, WHAT'RE YOU DOING? YOU'RE GOING TO TAKE THE SHOP DOWN!"

Angelina Weasley jabbed the potion ladle at the portrait in fury. "IT'S CALLED ANGER MANAGEMENT!"

"ANGER MANAGEMENT?" Fred shouted, watching helplessly as the fireworks and explosions from the volatile potion destroyed precious products. "WHAT THE HELL ABO-" He caught sight of his brothers and gave a sigh of relief. "GEORGE! YOUR WIFE'S GONE MAD!"

"YOU'RE ONE TO TALK!" Angelina shouted at the offending painting angrily, tears glistening in her eyes.

"I NEVER THREW A BLOODY BOOK INTO AN EXPERIMENTAL POTION!" Fred raised his painted arms in exasperation, so caught up in the argument that he only belatedly noticed his brothers' spinning into motion to frantically take out the fires, fireworks, and general noise and mayhem. "MERLIN, OF ALL THE STUPID-" his statement trailed off as he noticed that he was shouting into a no longer noise-filled room, "-ah, well. That's better then. But Angie, you're still nuts."

Angelina just growled, flinging various ingredients into the potion and stabbing at the boiling liquid as though it had done her a personal wrong.

"Angie? You're back from Hogsmeade? I," George said as he approached his steaming wife cautiously, "I guess you've skimmed it then..."

"What was your first guess?" Angelina looked up angrily. "How dare that, that _person_ say those things about Harry! What has he ever done to her?"

"Wait, Harry?" Fred piped in curiously. "Are there new rumours or something?"

"Rita Skeeter wrote a biography about him." Bill told him softly. "There's lots of details and scandals."

"Scandals? _Scandals_?" Angelina cried out. "Skeeter claims he was abused!"

Utter silence blanketed the room after her outburst.

"Abused?" Fred said quietly, looking at his twin in horrified realisation. "Oh hell, the bars-"

"Bars?" Bill narrowed his eyes at the portrait in suspicion.

"Yeah, I know." George said shortly, ignoring the questioning looks Bill and Angelina sent him. "It was the first thing I thought of."

Fred began to look sick, pacing up and down his painting restlessly. "Why didn't that prat tell us? What about Ron and Hermione? Does Ginny know?"

"I don't know." George sighed before Angelina cut him off.

"What are you two talking about?" She eyes narrowed. "You don't actually believe Skeeter's rubbish, do you?"

Her husband hesitated. "What she says about his adventures are generally accurate-"

"-that doesn't mean anything!" It was Bill's turn to interrupt. "Practically everything in there is exaggerated to an extreme. Last time I checked, Quirrel didn't leave a trail of dead students in his wake, and Harry didn't fall from his broom and into a week-long coma."

"There is that. Plus the 'Dark Lord Potter' trash." George answered with a groan. "Merlin, I don't want to believe it. But I keep flashing back to things that happened and it all just-well, it makes sense."

Angelina twitched. "What things that happened?"

"What bars?" Bill asked again. Fred and George looked at each other apprehensively.

"The summer before the Chamber of Secrets fiasco," Fred said slowly, "Ron, George and I rescued Harry from his relatives."

"Wait," Bill said in disbelief, "you three actually flew dad's car to Surrey? Merlin's left toe, I thought that was fake!"

Fred looked at Bill in surprise until George muttered, "It was mentioned as a sneak peek for the second biography."

"The car doesn't matter." Angelina stepped in swiftly, sending her husband a piercing glare. "The bars-you really found Harry locked in his room, bars on his window, his school supplies locked down in _that_ broom cupboard, and starved with a broken arm _and_ leg, AND DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING?"

"We did say something! Wait, he didn't have any broken bones, and he was skinny not 'starved'." George protested while Fred mumbled 'Broom cupboard? Why's Angie upset at a cupboard?' "But mum didn't believe us about the rest!"

"YOU SHOULD HAVE TRIED HARDER!" Angelina cried, before her eyes opened in realisation and her shout turned into whispered shock. "Oh Merlin. It's true. It's all true..."

George, ignoring the potential danger, wrapped his wife in a hug as she succumbed to tears. "Not all of it's true. You know how much Skeeter loves to exaggerate."

"God damnit." Bill looked around the room, feeling useless. "At least parts of it are real? I was sure Fleur and mum were being paranoid but...what are we supposed to do?"

"Hermione's pressing changes on Skeeter and the Dursleys. Mum mentioned that Ron was sent into the line of fire to tell Harry and Ginny the news." George said without letting go of Angelina. "My guess is that Harry's trying to stop them from committing homicide, so maybe it'd be best if we stay away from Godric's Hollow for a bit."

"Privet Drive sounds good." Angelina said harshly through her hiccoughs.

Bill pulled a hand through his hair, resisting the urge to grab his wand and follow his sister-in-law's suggestion. "No, it'd be pointless." He finally sighed disappointedly, restraining the urge for violence until later. "Harry mentioned a while back that his 'relatives's' house is under a protective ward. Don't know what possessed him to put it up, but knowing him we won't be able to easily break it. We could head to the Burrow? Fleur's there with mum, dad, and the kids. I know that Percy and Audrey were going to go over as well, and maybe Andromeda and Teddy."

Suddenly, the floo lit up and Ron tumbled out. He looked around madly.

"Have you seen Harry or Ginny?" He said quickly, waving the offending book in desperation. "I've tried all of Godric's Hollow, Grimmauld Place, I've just come from the Burrow-"

"Why're you trying to find them?" Fred asked, still getting his head around the revelations.

Ron groaned, threw the biography onto a potions-splattered table, and ran his hands through his hair. "Because of that rubbish. Hermione found out about Skeeter's new book and sent me out to warn Harry." He paused in puzzlement when there were no more questions flung at him.

"We already know about it." Angelina rubbed her eyes. "It's all over Hogsmeade and I think Molly must have flooed George and Bill. I've only had a chance to skim it, but it's...it's..."

Ron gazed at the book in apprehension. "I've been racing around and haven't had a chance to look at it yet. But Hermione said that Skeeter talks about the Dursl-"

"_Don't_ say that name." His sister-in-law cried steely. "If half these things are true they'd better be chucked in Azkaban!"

"It's that bad?" Ron said weakly, his face paling. "Merlin, even if it's not true this will be a nightmare to clean up."

Bill shook his head. "We're missing the main problem here. Do we know if Harry and Ginny have heard about this yet?"

"Probably not." George groaned. "Ginny mentioned that since they both had a long weekend they were going to take the kids off somewhere. I'd thought they might still be at home or that Hermione has a way to contact them..."

"But apparently she doesn't." Bill tapped his hand on the table in thought. "So basically, we have no idea where they are and both are likely to explode when they hear about this?"

"About sums it up." George looked at the book, contemplating the very many ways he could creatively destroy it. "Floo's out, apparation's out, and Kreacher's still annoyed about the flaming hinkypuffs. But Harry's Head Auror, surely there's a way to ... oh. Ron, have you tried sending him a Patronus message?"

Ron froze, looked at his brother with startled eyes, before groaning out loud. "I'm an idiot. I could've been done ages ago–_Expecto patronum_!"

A silver Jack Terrier swirled out from Ron's wand and he kneeled down to speak to it. "Harry, I need you, Ginny, and the boys to come to Diagon Alley's Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes as soon as possible. _Drop everything and come here_! Everyone is safe but we have a situation on our hands. Oh, and Harry? Take away my sister's wand."

* * *

The floo flared up and four figures clumsily jumped out.

"HI HI!" James shot out of his father's arms, jumping excitedly over to his uncles. Harry chuckled weakly.

"Jamie's fond of his brand new word." The man-who-conquered helped his wife with baby Albus as she found her balance. "At least it isn't a curse. Now, what's going on?"

"What I'm more interested in," Ginny growled at her siblings as she held Albus to her tightly, "is why you interrupted our break when I _finally_ managed to get Harry away from the Ministry, and why in Merlin's name you wanted him to take my wand!"

Ron took an involuntary step backwards at his sister's glare. "Ah. You, erm, heard that?"

"Of course I heard it!" She exclaimed in exasperation. "We were in the same room. How could I have bloody well not heard it!"

"Ginny, language?" Harry said amusedly, even while he worryingly saw his siblings-in-law's depressed expressions.

"Shut it." Ginny said simply before noticing that her toddler had wondered off. "Jamie, don't touch anything! Who knows what might explode."

"'s fine." Jamie said, and three of the adults and a portrait realised too late that the young boy had put his Potter and Weasley genes to good use, managing to find the worst thing in the room. "'s da da."

Ginny and Harry exchanged a fondly bemused glance. The Weasleys became horrified and all who could backed away a few steps, not needing Divination to foretell the impending explosion.

"Munchkin, that's a _book_." Harry said, walking over to his son. "_I'm_ da da-oh. Oh damn."

"Language!" His wife exclaimed.

But Harry was too busy staring at the biography to be concerned about a swear. "Erm, Gin? How about you give Al to Angie for a sec."

"What? Why..." Ginny began to protest, but Angelina had already taken the baby in her arms before hurriedly retreating back a safe distance. Mrs. Potter blinked in astonishment, "...what's going on?"

Harry took the book from Jamie's hand, winced at the cover, and turned to the back to read the blurb. His expression became darker with each passing line, until he finally closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. "I guess Skeeter's back in Britain."

"What was your first clue?" George said drily, and Harry reopened his eyes to stare at his siblings-in-law with dawning realisation.

"That's why you were upset-" he spotted the tears on Angelina's cheeks and bit back a groan, "-okay, who's read it?"

Four of the Weasleys winced as one, raising their hands weakly as though they were back at school.

"Hermione found out about it this morning." Ron spoke up hesitantly, acting like his best friend had been transfigured into an Erumpent Horn. "By this point I think everyone in the family's skimmed it-except me since I've been running around trying to warn you lot."

"What am I, the next door neighbour?" Fred muttered, flinging his painted arms up. Ron sent him an apologetic glance.

"Most of Wizarding Britain must know about it by now. It's nothing short of a miracle that you haven't." Angelina said with a sigh, adjusting her hold on the youngest Potter. "I was in Hogsmeade when I found out: it was all over the _Prophet _and the entire village was a buzz."

"I'm pretty sure every other auror was hiding it from me this morning." Ron grumbled before paling even further. "Oh Merlin, that'd explain the looks. I must be in it too! Damnit Harry, if she included the _wingardium leviosa_ scene I'm levitating her off a blasted cliff."

George and Bill utterly failed to hide their snorts of laughter. Ron groaned, dipped his head into his hands, and started muttering ideas of how he could make it up to his wife.

"Harry," Ginny repeated with narrowed eyes while sending quick glares at her vague siblings and sister-in-law, "can I find out sometime this year what's going on? Please tell me that book isn't written by Rita Skeeter, and that you're only concerned about this because you're Head Auror."

"Erm," Harry hesitated, silently pleading with the others for help, "Gin, this is a new biography about me."

"By that _bug_!" Ginny's mouth gaped open in surprise. "No one can believe her rubbish is true, can they?"

"It's slightly accurate overall, but the details I know about are all wrong." George admitted quietly. "She's only covered Harry's first year at Hogwarts so things like the horcruxes and Deathly Hallows haven't been mentioned, if they ever will be."

Bill stared at Harry as the latter winced. "I don't think there's any need to be concerned about that yet." The oldest Weasley cautiously spoke up. "But there is one secret which I think everyone wants to know about. Since Ron and Hermione didn't know about the Dursleys..."

A flush swept over Harry's face at the words, his eyes widening in surprise. As he opened his mouth to either confirm or deny Ginny snatched the book before anyone could stop her. She stole a quick glance at the cover before, like her husband, immediately moving onto the back summary. Her expression didn't change as she mouthed the words and the entire room grew still around her. Until, that is, the book dropped from her fingers' grip and fell to the ground with a dull thud. She swiftly met her husband's gaze with a silent question. But one look at his unsettled expression and fearful eyes was all the answer she needed.

Ashen paleness swept over her face.

"Is it true?" She asked softly.

Harry shook his head rapidly. "About the Dursleys? No, of course not. Skeeter's just making up a ridiculous story..."

"_Harry James Potter_." Ginny stepped up close to him as he shifted his eyes away. "Don't even try to lie to me. Is the blasted thing true?"

Harry didn't say anything, keeping his gaze locked on his puzzled son as he gently ruffled his red hair. Ginny blew out a breath of air, her demeanour only becoming more porcelain.

"Not all of it. You said this is all over Britain?" Harry at last asked the others hollowly. He was met with horrified stares and stilted nods. He chuckled humourlessly, still avoiding Ginny's gaze. "Just what I need. Damnit, it's been over for ages–but of course Skeeter had to find out. Of course."

"Mate?" Ron spoke up hesitantly. "It's all–or, some of it is real then?"

"Bits of it, kind of." Harry looked down at Jamie, who was still trying to figure out why the adults were acting so weird. "Is it that shocking? You know they hated me."

"Hating you and, and _abusing_ you," Bill said in a sickened voice, "are two different things."

Harry sighed. "I haven't read the damned book but it's obvious Skeeter exaggerated it. My childhood wasn't wonderful, but it was nowhere near as bad as what you're surely imagining. It wasn't 'abuse'."

George looked at him in annoyance and guilt. "How about the highlights, and I'll even keep it innocent for Jamie: broom cupboard, starvation, ridiculous amounts of chores and threats, 'interesting' nicknames, broken bones and bruises, and bullying cousin."

"No broken bones, bruises, or starvation–at least not what you're implying." Harry winced. "Fine, all right. Maybe the bug didn't horribly exaggerate."

Angelina's mouth gaped open as tears trickled down her face. She gently handed Al to George before turning to her famous brother-in-law. "_What_? What about the Mirror of Erised. Was that really the first time you saw your parents?"

"Wait, what now?" Fred peered out from his painting in confusion.

The dark-haired man's eyes widened in shocked disbelief. "How–what? Not possible, how did she know about that?" Instead of answering Angelina gave a sniffle and pounced on him with a hug.

"I can't believe you went through all that!" She cried, wailing onto a stupefied Harry's shoulder. "I should have noticed! Bloody well saw you enough at Quidditch. But I never even thought that it'd be too much for an eleven year old, and then with seeking and Wood's insanity on top of that..."

"Wait, seeking?" Harry said in befuddlement as he lost her train of thought. "Angie, calm down, I've always loved Quidditch. What's the problem-"

"WE PRESSURED YOU TOO MUCH!" Angelina sobbed. "The hero, the Quidditch prodigy, no one ever noticed _you_! Everyone overlooked that you were an orphan, that you were too skinny, that you didn't care about your own health, that Dumbledore was a manipulative old coot! Merlin, for all I know there might have been evidence of physical abuse or, or," she stiffened suddenly, and looked up at her petrified brother-in-law, "oh dear Merlin, tell me you didn't."

"Didn't what? But no! There wasn't any 'physical abuse'. Wait, Dumbledore? The hell?" Harry protested, barely able to comprehend that all of these lies were being branded as truths. But he controlled his anger in seeing the horrified looks that had appeared in his siblings-in-law's faces, and that Ginny looked a moment away from either fainting or attacking someone. "What? I just told you it wasn't true!"

"You never did, right?" Bill said horsely, rubbing his hand through his hair in shock.

"Did what?" Harry once more asked blankly, his annoyance rising to the surface as he looked from person to person and failed to gain any comprehension. "Ron, what're they talking about?"

Ron had looked as confused as Harry until George shakingly whispered something in his ear. His eyes widened before he swiftly shook his head. "No." He said stiffly, his gaze shifting to Harry in worry. "Not possible, I'd have noticed."

Angelina finally pulled back from the hug to glare at Ron. "Like you noticed the abu-your best friend's home life?"

"_There wasn't any abu_se!" Harry gritted out between his teeth. "Don't blame Ron for anything: I was the one who avoided all mention of my relatives. Still, for the last bloody time, _it wasn't that bad! _But what are you lot on about?!"

"Yeah, what the hell is going on?" Fred shouted an echoing cry from his portrait.

"It's mental." Ron only just managed to get the statement out. "Completely barmy. They're wondering if you've ever, ever–"

"Spit it out!"

"–wanted to give up."

Harry blinked, staring at the others hollowly. "What?"

Ron looked increasingly sick. "Please don't make me repeat that."

"You've got to be joking." Harry growled out in sudden anger and frustration. "No you gits, I've never done anything like that!"

"Da da?" Jamie looked up at his dad's raised voice. Said father sighed and cooled his temper before picking his son up.

"Everything's fine." He said with a forced smile. "We've just gotten some bad news and your aunt and uncles are being idiots."

"I'iots!" Jamie exclaimed, much happier now that he'd learned a new word and could play with his father's glasses. Harry, ignoring that his son was trying to poke him in the eye with his own frames, returned to frowning as he stared at the rest of his family.

"Nothing like that happened." Harry said firmly, leaving no room for argument. He plucked his glasses back from Jamie before setting him down and conjuring some colourful bubbles. "Skeeter's looking for controversy where there is none. No, the Dursleys weren't especially nice, but they were nowhere near that horrible. And yes, sometimes I was frustrated about the things that happened at school, but at no time did I want to bloody 'give up'!"

"Says the man who faced Voldemort, defenceless and on a suicide mission." Angelina huffed with equal stubbornness, determined not to let this topic go.

"Because I had to destroy the horcruxes!" Harry exclaimed, bewildered that he had to explain this at all. "There wasn't any blasted choice, it's not as though I wanted to do it!"

"Uh huh." Angelina was still softly crying, unconvinced.

"Don't mind Angie." George broke in, trying to insert some humour in the horrendous situation. "Her hormones are acting up lately and–oh wait, bloody hell, is this your way of telling me you're pregnant?"

Thus defusing the conversation, the others chuckled while Angelina unceremoniously attacked her husband. Jamie looked up curious at the disruption but, seeing that it was the regular adult insanity, returned happily to bursting the brightly coloured and sparkling bubbles.

Harry had just begun to relax when he caught sight of his oddly silent wife's unconvinced glare.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, I made Fred a portrait. It had to be done.

Just to make sure it's perfectly clear: this is totally canon. No crazy abuse, no cutting or suicide attempts, no angst except for book five. The Weasleys are just worried that Skeeter might be telling the truth even though it's horribly exaggerated. Cool? Awesome.

As always, reviews = red vines. Virtual/hypothetical red vines and virtual/hypothetical hugs! Who wouldn't want those?


	3. The Keeper of the Keys

**A/N: **I'm crazy sorry for not updating in ages! Dissertation, essays, and postgrad applications happened. Oh, and I went to a J.K. Rowling book signing. Just, you know, no big. I thanked my hero and role model for my childhood, and she told me that 'hocus pocus' does not, in fact, create horcruxes. But it's cool, cause my theory was personally shot down by the word of god! Btw, apparently we aren't meant to have sex near unicorns. Rowling's orders *huggles the signed copies of "The Casual Vacancy" to her chest in a death grip, nevereverever letting them go*

Then I saw Harry and the Potters at the Snow Ball, where my boyfriend dressed up as Voldy jump-hugged a shocked Joe DeGeorge, screaming, "Let's finish this the way it started: TOGETHER!"

Anywho! I'd always wondered why Harry didn't sue Skeeter and the _Daily Prophet_. Maybe he was just an idiot, but that _Hermione_ didn't mention it raises a whole other implication. What if the wizarding libels laws were nowhere near as comprehensive as muggle ones? What if trademarks were nonexistent and one had to blatantly (rather than subtly) insult someone's honour for anything to be illegal? If Skeeter was careful to cover her tracks and insist that she was writing off of interviews which she assumed were truthful…

As always, an enormous thank you to my amazing beta spellmugwump97! What are you lot doing here? Go check out her stories!

**General Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling is amazing, wonderful, and not me. Most definitely not me. If a miracle ever happens and she finds this fic, I reallyreallyreally hope she won't be insulted. Er, I meant it with love? You're totally awesome, but this idea was too perfect not to use.

* * *

_"'Keeper of the keys, I am. At Hogwarts. But yeh'll be knowing all about that!'_

_ 'All about what?"_

_ 'Blimey Harry, didn' you wonder where your parents learned it all?'_

_ The 'conversation' then rapidly descended into a shouting match between the intruder and Harry's relatives. Dudley used this convenient distraction to swipe the box and huddle in a corner, trying to valiantly prove that the unappetising birthday cake was indeed edible. The Boy Saviour didn't join him, as he had an ounce of common sense and was, either way, too busy staring up at the new man to do anything else. Though, this person didn't look much like a 'man'. It was because of this that Harry wasn't exactly sure who he wished would win the argument. Normally he'd have happily backed anyone who challenged his family, but it seemed like this 'not-really-a-man' wanted to take him away._

_ Again, not something that Harry would typically protest. But he wasn't sure if he'd survive the encounter with—whatever this monstrous person was. For an ordinary man wouldn't have burst through the door as though it was made out of toothpicks. A regular man wouldn't have beetle-like black eyes, a ginormously ratted beard, and start shouting about how Harry didn't know anything. Any normal man most certainly didn't look closer to seven than six feet, having the girth to match._

_ Harry hurriedly backed away from the giant as his uncle got out a gun. The boy was brave, yes, but he wasn't stupid." __From Chapter 4 of R. Skeeter's "The Rise and Fall of Harry J. Potter"._

* * *

"Let me get this straight." Harry Potter sighed wearily, trying to ignore his ensuing headache. "You want me to go to the Burrow?"

"Yep." Ron said happily, popping the syllable. Fred sniggered from the wall.

"Where Molly, Fleur, and likely Audrey and Hermione will strangle me with hugs while questioning me to death?" The Weasleys who noticed Harry's underlying strained tone backed a few steps away.

"Uh huh." The oblivious Ron rattled the Floo Powder jar. "Let's go!"

"No."

"Wha–why not?" The redhead gawked at his brother-in-law, having held onto the false hope that it'd be easy from this point on. "It'll be fun!"

Harry just sent him an incredulous look. George joined his twin and fell into chuckles before, catching a glare from his wife, joined in on the 'let's-persuade-Harry-game'. "Think about it this way. You could follow all of us, or you could be interrogated by your wife. Alone. Without witnesses."

The man-who-conquered paused, digested George's words, swallowed nervously, and grabbed the Floo out of Ron's hand. "Let's go then!"

"Yeah, no." Ginny stole the container from her husband's clutch before rounding on her brothers. "Book or not, we're going to have a proper family weekend _for once_! Harry's on leave, you deal with this."

Ron stared at his sister's furious face, even more flabbergasted. "But, but we don't know what happ–"

"You and Hermione were there for most of this." Ginny growled, grabbing the offending book and shoving it in her purse. "Figure it out!"

"But the Durs—"

"You'll find out about them on Monday!" She carefully took Albus from Angelina and shot a pointed look at her husband before heading to the fireplace. "Say bye to your uncles and aunt, Jamie."

"BYE BYE!" Jamie hollered as Harry—shooting nervous glances at his infuriated wife—shuffled them all away before hesitating himself.

"Look," Harry said in a low, quick whisper to a bewildered Ron as Ginny impatiently waited, "I'll try and be back as soon as possible. Tell Andy that she and Teddy are welcome at ours any time, and tell Hermione not to go crazy with the lawsuits against my relatives. With PR—damn it. Listen, anything that seems unlikely probably didn't happen, the Dursleys weren't that bad and—"

"HARRY!"

"Coming!" He called back just as Ginny and Albus stepped through the floo. He turned to his brother-in-law with more urgency, a fidgeting Jamie at his side. "If she hasn't yet, get Hermione to make a statement _immediately_ that this is just rubbish, and keep the other books from being published! Libel, trademarks, lawsuits, whatever. Hit Skeeter with blackmail and bribery for all I care! Keep as much of it from the kids as possible and—" he sighed, "—I'm guessing Kingsley would frown on a nationwide obliviation?"

"It's probably international by now." George piped in, not managing to keep the faint twinge of amusement out of his voice.

"Perfect." Harry groaned. "Just perfect. Okay, now to find out how pissed off my wife is."

Bill raised an eyebrow. "She _is_ our sister, mate."

"Who's bloody terrifying." Ron pointed out, nodding along with his best friend. "Call us if you need rescuing."

"Thanks." Harry shot a glance at the simmering fireplace. "What do you think my chances would be if I ran for it?"

"I'd stun you." Angelina said grumpily, still annoyed by the revelations and 'pregnant' remark. "Then I'd take your wand, tie you up, and dump you in front of every female Weasley and Potter, not letting you go until you'd been thoroughly interrogated on every blasted word of Skeeter's 'book'."

Harry blinked, before backing away from the fiery woman and towards the floo. "Right. Godric's Hollow it is."

* * *

Rita Skeeter smiled primly, tapping her fingers against the podium as chaos reigned about the room. She sent a cursory glance to the photographer by her side, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable with being on this side of the camera. "Bozo, ready to make the headlines?"

Bozo didn't even bother groaning. "That was terrible."

"But appropriate." Her eyes swept the crowd before them, narrowing at the complete pandemonium. "Merlin, even before the press conference everyone has gone mad! It's almost as insane as the signing in New York. How delightful."

"That's what happens when we publish out of the blue." Johanna Rawthorne piped in. The slim witch with bouncy brown curls gave off a cheery impression of vanilla ice cream and scrumptious apple pie. Yet her status as the predatory publishing queen could be detected in the sharp ends to her American accent and the mischievously anticipatory edge of her grin. "The public is in an uproar, trans-Atlantic pre-sales are already rolling in, and the international ministries are scrambling to keep up! Almost as amazing as what happened last time. A perfect publishing storm if I've ever seen one."

"Catch everyone by surprise." Rita nodded, preening under the attention as Bozo scowled and clutched his 'security camera' tighter. "Nobody here had a clue: my people actually had to inform the Ministry that they could hardly charge me with anything. Goodness knows they want to throw me into Azkaban for a little biography, can you believe that? It makes me practically _long_ for the glamour of muggle life."

Rita was certainly looking well. Gone were the rhinestone-encrusted glasses and exaggerated hair. She'd learned to school her need for gossip into a pleasantly curious expression, and now resembled a kindly mum rather than a yellow journalist. Her blonde locks formed a prim bob circling her ears, and the accompanying make-up was just enough to highlight her features. From her high heels, expensive wedding ring, to flattering dress robe, she was the picture of professionalism. But her mind was far from this magical room, the press conference, and a scandal at the tip of production. Instead, her thoughts travelled back seven or so years, and the events that had precipitated. She was many things, but foolish was not one of them. So when she caught wind of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission, she was on the first flight out of the country. It hardly mattered that she was a half-blood: she'd made one too many enemies to risk staying in the new regime.

Thankfully for her, America was fraught with journalism opportunities. In no time at all Rita had found a publisher with a–similar–disposition. Part of her had expected to return to Britain once things cooled down, but then it was the Battle of Hogwarts, the 'man-who-conquered', and a wizarding public who were too enamoured with their saviour to write a single word against him.

It was almost inevitable that Rita immediately started in on the first draft.

It was done within the month.

Jo had apparated over the moment she'd heard: she was practically drooling by the second chapter, had begun cheering at the sixth, and the check was written by the ninth.

Yet, it was what happened directly afterwards which cemented Rita's five year sojourn from Wizarding Britain. She remembered the meeting that started all of this like it was yesterday:

* * *

_"But if the fwooper hits the fan?" Rita idly doodled with her Quick-Quotes Quill to see if the charms were up to date._

_ Jo threw a small red passport into Rita's lap. "Use this."_

_ "This?" She glanced down at the inky expose of George W. Bush, and only after nodding in satisfaction did she pocket the quill and pick up the passport with two manicured fingers. Flipping through it, her smile faded until she was outright scowling at her publisher. "Really? The point of a separate ID is to use a _different_ name. J.K. Rowling? Merlin, you are egoistic."_

_ "Egoistic?" Jo gave an exaggerated gasp, throwing her hand up to her mouth. "Generous! I'm giving up one of my best covers for you. You don't even want to know how much it took to 'switch' our appearances. This one has the works: muggle birth certificate, logged high school yearbook, full A-levels, a degree from the University of Exeter, and sworn testimonies of neighbours and an ex-husband. Everything, I tell you."_

_ "And a child." Rita said drily, pointing at the given information with a sharp nail._

_ "Details, details." Jo waved it away. "You can be, what is it, trying to shield your family from the public spotlight? Yes, that works wonderfully."_

_ "Uh-huh."_

_ "You're just lucky I had an extra English identity." She frowned. "Blame it on my short attempt to learn Britishisms. 'Bloody hell', the accent is impossible to learn."_

_ "Hmm." Rita cringed at the grating words. "I suppose it'll do, as long as the identity holds up."_

_ "It will." Jo said smugly. "We just need to have our bases covered, and anonymity is the way to go with a topic this–potentially explosive. Going full muggle won't cut it."_

_ Rita paged through the passport with faint interest, noticing that the picture of herself was at least complementary, but that her age was decreased by a few years. She smiled, letting it pass._

* * *

It had been quite an interesting time. The books were an incredible success, and because of Rawthorne's company no one even realised that the Statute of Secrecy had been horrendously breached. Rita had been, at first, less than thrilled at the idea of acting like a 'rags-to-riches' story (and muggle to boot), but knew enough about the press to harp it up. Now? She was rather fond of 'J.K. Rowling', and was startled to find that she barely missed her journalism career at all. Being richer than the Queen of England might have helped.

Jo had been careful to sweep rumours around Wizarding Britain that Rita was ruining politicians' lives in America, leaving the newly monikered Rowling free to wreak havoc the world over. It was shocking that a little charm, a few _obliviates_, a handful of children's books, and the notion of muggle fandom could make both women billionaires overnight.

Of course, that wouldn't keep them from attempting to double their profits.

"What about if Little Miss Perfect Hermione Weasley notices the muggle children's books now that she knows about the biographies?" Rita mused, mentally lining up her next interview even whilst the reporters around them clamoured for the press conference to begin.

"The anti-wizard charm will hold up. It hasn't failed, after all, in the past five years." Jo smirked. "_Mrs. Rowling_ is an international hit. If any Ministry threatens to halt publishing of these new biographies, we'll just threaten to let the charm fall and have complete chaos reign. Though it would serve them and those dratted politicians right if we just threw them to the wolves."

Rita smiled. Bozo, catching the edge of the predatory pierce, couldn't help but wince.

"It was awful enough to be booted from DC. Thank Merlin for cover ids." Jo clicked her tongue in disapproval, continuing right on with her favourite anti-government rant. "What's wrong with exercising our freedom of speech? Hypocrites, all of those idiots, and it's hardly surprising its happened here as well. That Weasley person with the ridiculous name, Hermy-knees or whatnot, has been ringing me constantly. The poor dear seems to have confused muggle with wizarding libel laws. Such a silly mistake."

"Hermione Weasley?" Rita sneered, her calm expression finally breaking. "That awful girl again. She even blackmailed me as a teenager! I'm not at all surprised that she didn't bother keeping to the laws; she and Potter have been two peas in a pod for years."

"Risqué affair, wasn't it?" Jo recalled. "Ah yes, in your fourth book I believe. That lovely detail with Krum and the others. What's this I hear about her daughter?"

Rita smiled primly, resembling her old self once more. "Oh, little Rose Weasley. Quite a few rumours have been spiraling since her birth and–"

Bozo coughed. "Shouldn't we get this started?"

"Ah, right. Yes. Plenty of time for gossip later." Jo sent a _sonorus_ towards herself before turning to the churning press.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! We will keep this brief so you can get back to reading the fascinating new biography. I am Johanna Rawthorne, head publisher for Boston based Salem Incorporated, and am very excited to introduce our newest project. Rita Skeeter," she swept an arm towards the preening author, "has come back to Britain in triumph! Including unprecedented interviews, her 'The Rise and Fall of Harry J. Potter' is a comprehensive look at the fascinating early years of this ambiguous 'hero'. This will be divided up into seven biographies about the man-who-conquered's Hogwarts years and secrets. With the first instalment, 'The Sorcerer's Stone', already in bookstores, no one has a reason not to partake in this adventure! Now: questions?"

Rita primly clenched her lips at the explosion of noise. Jo gave her a knowing side-glance before tapping the podium for attention. "Now now now, one at a time, please."

"ARE THE RUMOURS TRUE?" A young man thrust his microphone above the heads of the others, clamouring his way to the front. "Miss Skeeter, were you behind the Lindh leak? Did you cover the expose of Hanssen? The leaked articles on the Enron–"

"One question at a time, please." Rita chuckled humourlessly. "But no, I had nothing to do with those scandals, or any other gossip about ruined reputations. As should be clear, I've left my journalism career behind, and have focused these past years on collecting research for my books."

"Are you worried the Ministry will charge you for libel suits?" A woman with bright blonde highlights shouted in the small lull, making her fellow reporters glare at her darkly.

Rita snorted and leaned forward. "We haven't broken any magical libel laws. This is an unofficial biography, where every fact and implication is supported by first- or second-hand interviews. While Minister Kingsley, Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Potter are well within their rights to constructively criticise my work, I am equally entitled to publish whatever I see fit."

"But will they halt publication of the last six books?"

"They can try." She gave a dismissing wave of her hand. "But it would be completely illegal, and if they do I'll take my case to court. If that occurs, it would be an open-and-shut case."

* * *

**A/N:** J.K. Rowling is my hero and role model, but 'Johanna Rawthorne' was inevitable. See, I needed some excuse as to why they'd even have a miniscule chance of publishing all seven books, and blackmail fit wonderfully. Plus, this was a great way to not only make this story canon, but line up with reality as well. On that note, I should mention that this fic is taking place in 2002, and that Rita Skeeter is 5-10 years younger than in canon so that both she and JK Rowling would be in their late 30s–thank you spellmugwump97 for the correction!

Oh and, Skeeter's muggle children's books? They're still a wee bit exaggerated from canon, but are dialled down from the insanity of her biographies. Does this make sense or am I going overboard with the whole 'Rowling' thing?


	4. The Letters From No One

**A/N:** I'm done with my dissertation! WHOO! FINI! Now? Now, I can return to wondrous fanfiction! YIPEE!

Also, I'm seriously sorry for the emotional whomping!Harry, but it just seems to fit the story. Still, I've always viewed Harry Potter as a lovely example of a tragic hero, so while there will be plenty of angst doting on his insecurities, at the end of the day he's mainly a powerful protagonist. So this won't be one of those weird fics where Harry acts like an emo pre-teen. Once the initial 'holy-crap-Harry-was-your-life-really-this-terribl e?!' stuff is over, the Weasleys and Potters will get over their shock and be furious. Soon enough, the characters will also have far bigger problems to deal with than the Dursleys. Though they will get creative revenge on Skeeter when Harry lets his Slytherin side out to play.

Anyone have any guesses as to how? It's an idea I've never seen in any other fanfic, so I'm hoping it's at least a wee bit unusual.

Another enormous THANK YOU to my incredible beta, spellmugwump97!

**General Disclaimer:** Yep, you've found me out. I am J.K. Rowling. … What? I am. Not much more to say. So stop gawking and enjoy the story!

* * *

_"Harry had no doubt that his Uncle had gone mad. This had been made thoroughly clear when the enraged man torn off half of his moustache, but his throwing the letters in the fireplace and spreading marmalade on the daily paper (before munching absentmindedly on the sports section) were likewise good indicators._

_Yet, the final break in this descent into insanity came that weekend. The morning began relatively normally, with a gleeful Vernon thinking that he'd gotten a reprieve at last._

_'No post today!' He chortled (as muggles have no mail delivered on Sundays). Harry didn't look at him, preferring even to watch his cousin's gorging than his Aunt's and Uncle's triumphant glares._

_'Yeah, yeah.' The dark-haired boy numbly agreed, fingering his napkin with a sigh. He knew he should be happy; his Uncle being in a good mood was always better than the alternative, and he was thrilled to be in Dudley's second bedroom. But the unknown contents of that first letter continued to float around his mind (though the thought of the envelopes bundled up inside his Aunt's eggs did momentarily distract him with a silent laugh). _Hogwarts_. Spelled out in cursive green ink, a letter to him. To Harry._

_No one ever wrote to him. No one knew about his cupboard under the stairs. Thus, while he knew better, a part of him began to consider his Uncle's previous words. What if someone _was_ watching the house? What if—_

_But any more thoughts were rapidly pushed away when the fireplace, windows, and doors exploded with a hurricane of letters cascading in from all sides". From Chapter 3 of R. Skeeter's "The Rise and Fall of Harry J. Potter"._

* * *

The Weasleys had not been having a pleasant day. Many of them had spent it dealing with the insanity at the Ministry, while most of the rest were at the Burrow taking care of another immediate problem. For aside from the emotional upheavals, PR nightmare, riots on the Atrium, and the utter confusion that was currently the Auror force, there were the owls. Or, rather, the letters they were carrying. And the mess the hordes of animals made—but a few dozen _Evanesco_s cleared that up.

The post owls had been, oddly enough, a reoccurring issue. It had all began when a neo-Death Eater group tried to stake out the Potters years ago. Though this threat was handled, putting the Potter's new address into the public domain was suddenly a less than enticing possibility. This suited their desire for a low-profile life style well enough, and the only main problem with 'going partially underground' was actually just receiving mail. Getting a box at the Post Owlery was a possibility, but it meant that any crazed fans or the press would be able to get their hands on private correspondence. The idea was therefore raised that mail could be rerouted to the Burrow (a place already well-known, which none of them could do anything about except for add to its defences) and forwarded to Godric's Hollow.

Since the celebrity cult surrounding both Harry and Ginny had died down some, this solution had worked perfectly for ages. That was until the night Rita Skeeter published the first biography on everyone's favourite golden boy, which coincided with the evening someone left the window over the Burrow's kitchen sink open.

The morning after, Molly Weasley wasn't able to step into her own kitchen. Frantically calling her husband down, the two had stared in disbelief at the jumbled mess of impatiently hooting owls and mounds of letters that filled every corner of room. After they'd gotten over the initial surprise, Molly snatched up and tore open the nearest correspondence. Mid-way through the third one, she'd collapsed on a chair. A surprised Arthur tried to help her, but was instead forced into the floo, "_To get the dratted book and bring help back!_"

By noon said book was skimmed, half the Weasley family had gotten rid of most of the initial owls, the kitchen table had been expanded to accommodate the overflowing letters, and there'd only been three nervous breakdowns and five crying fits.

By one the lunchtime rush had brought with it another fury of owls. These letters included multiple Howlers and half a dozen hidden curses. As the Howlers exploded Teddy and Victoire (as the oldest kids and the ones most likely to understand) were ushered from the room, Andromeda's and Fleur's hands clasped over their ears as they shouted that they were to never repeat these bad words. Both kids rolled their eyes, having heard worst.

By a quarter past two, not a single adult female (or a few of the males) had not burst into either frustrated tears or angry screams at one point or another. Even the arrival of Bill, George, Angelina, Fred and Fred Jr. didn't bring much appease. For the were Potters were still notably absent; particularly a certain Boy Saviour that they all sorely wished to interrogate.

At three, all took a break from building a new wall with the letters to listen to Rita Skeeter's press conference on the Wireless Network.

At half past three, said Wireless exploded. None would admit to being the cause of this, though Teddy and George shared a grin. When the remnants of the machine then burst into flames, everyone decided it'd be best to ignore how Fleur's hair suddenly looked feathery. Bill nervously tried to comfort her, but was stopped by her poisonous glare.

At four, Hermione, Ron, and Percy arrived in a cloud of impatient storminess. With this the family meeting commenced. These meetings at the Burrow were always tense affairs. These were wholly different from the free-wheeling Sunday Family Dinners, and only occurred during unprecedented, forlorn events. The meetings were never planned, entirely spontaneous, and yet somehow always resulted in (mostly) every member of the close-knit family finding themselves crammed into the Burrow's kitchen. Or, in this case, the living room, as the kitchen and dining room had been evacuated as a result of overflowing envelopes, parchment, the stray feather, and patch-work burn marks.

There had been a total of six family meetings over the years. From the 'Fred-and-Ron-unbreakable-curse' 1986 debacle, 1993's 'how-to-cheer-up-Ginny-without-mentioning-you-know -what', the joint 1995 discussion of 'holy-Merlin-Voldemort's-back-and-is-Harry-officia lly-family' (with an unanimous agreement for the latter, having agreed that Percy's absentee vote didn't count), the 'sobbing-and-intermittent-hopeless-condolences' meeting of 1997, the silent meeting of 1998, and the Deathly Hallows Fiasco of 1999.

This meeting—with everyone who was in Britain gathered except the Potters—was thus the seventh. No one particularly cared about the symbology behind that. Instead, they were mainly preoccupied with backing as far away from the fiery brunette as the crowded room would allow.

"Ginny did _what_?" Hermione growled, taking her frustration out on the much-abused book in front of her. "Especially with that cow Skeeter's dratted press conference. How dare she insinuate that—damn it! We need Harry in front of the press NOW to refute these rumours. Why can't I stop those wretched books? It's a travesty! _Skeeter's_ raving about freedom of speech? What about journalistic integrity! Preserving privacy! Basic libel suits _to prevent idiots from trying to ruin a man's reputation!_ Christ, why isn't Harry _HERE_?"

"Love?" Ron cautiously interrupted. She turned and stared daggers as he fidgeted. "Between us we can figure out most of the lies—"

"That's not the problem!" His wife ranted. "Rawthorne and Skeeter are right about the ridiculous wizarding laws regarding publishing rights. There isn't much we can legally do—though I'm still going to take that bug down! But now the issue is with credibility, and for the public to believe us it has to be Harry to make the announcement. While the 'Dark Lord Potter' idea is utter nonsense, some morons will still believe it; _especially_ if he stays in the shadows. Skeeter already has the upper hand and we're wasting time!"

"I know but—wait." Ron halted in amazement. "Dark Lord Potter?"

"Apparently Harry's evil." George said nonchalantly, ignoring his mother's tongue clicking at his feet resting on the coffee table.

Ron blinked, looked around, and realised that none of the adults except for portrait Fred (who was reading one of the aforementioned scandalous books with the pages magically flipping) seemed surprised. "How did Skeeter reckon this? Bloody hell."

"Ron!" Hermione clapped a hand to her head. "Not in front of the kids."

"We've heard worse." Teddy Lupin leaned around his grandma, his hair turning from a bright yellow to crimson red. "So, that's what the Howlers were about? My goddad's evil? Awesome!"

"No, not 'awesome'," Andromeda chided, "and it's not true. Don't listen to any of these rumours."

"It would still be wicked." The young boy gave a wide smile as his eyes turned emerald green. "Imagine if he was secretly ruling the world! So cool. Think he'd give me America?"

"I want France." Victoire said huffily at Teddy's side. She turned to Fleur. "Maman, can Uncle Harry give me Paris?"

"You'll have to ask him." Bill replied absently while he tried to comfort his still-sobbing wife. "Fleur, I swear those things aren't true."

"But 'Arry was only a liddle boy!" The blonde beauty wailed, clutching Louis and a surprised Dominique to her. "Those 'orrible monsters. Let us see how they like playing with fire!"

Bill scooted away from his wife's suddenly feathery skin and piercing stare. "Err, love?"

"Those _idiots_! I am tired of waiting!" Fleur cried, anger and sadness making a volatile mix. Dominique took the opportunity to escape her mum, clutching onto an annoyed Victoire while Teddy was likewise trying to tug away from his Gran's hug.

"_Finally!_" Angelina joined the shout, drawing her wand while also hugging a squirming Fred Jr. to her. "Privet Drive?"

George gave an oddly menacing smile, swinging his feet off the table. "I'll grab the pranks. How many fireworks will we need?"

"Sit down." Percy sighed. "Yes, we all want to murder the Dursleys. But shouldn't we first find out from Harry what they've done?"

"Don't be a spoilsport, Perce." Audrey waved her husband's comments aside before turning to her siblings-in-law, an eager light in her eyes. Like the other mums, she was holding onto her daughter Molly Jr. tightly. "Should we burn down _The Daily Prophet_ or 4 Privet Drive first?"

"Privet Drive, dear." Molly Weasley said, her expression one that had only been seen whilst challenging Bellatrix Lestrange to the death.

"_No one's burning down anything!_" Hermione cried shrilly enough to drown out the other voices, which was quite an accomplishment in itself. "Honestly, are you all pyromaniacs?"

George shrugged. "I prefer explosions."

"NO BURNING DOWN OR BLOWING UP ANYTHING." The brunette shrieked. "Stop acting like a mob!"

"Look at it logically." Percy tried again, trying the pull the wand from his wife's hand to no avail. "I'm angry as well, but we're cursing Skeeter for telling lies and cursing the Dursleys for being horrible to Harry—which we're basing off of Skeeter's book. See the problem?"

"Percy's right." Arthur nodded along with his son. "They're at least partly contradictory. We need to calm down and figure out the truth."

"We _could_ do that," Hermione said heatedly, "if Ginny wasn't being ridiculous! You know, that's it, I'm flooing them."

"That's not necessary." Bill sighed, happy that his wife was back to her non-bird-of-death self. "Ron already said this, but we should be able to figure most of the truth out. You two know basically everything that happened at Hogwarts, and Harry gave us plenty of clues about the Dursleys. So Hermione, Ron, what did he ever say about his childhood?"

"Nothing." Hermione huffed. "That's exactly the problem: he's as secretive as they come."

"We know bits and pieces." Ron said slowly. "He hated his relatives and the feeling was mutual. He even blew his aunt up like a balloon once. Something about an evil dog?"

Angelina narrowed her eyes. "Did he tell you on the train ride that he wore hand-me-downs from his cousin and never had presents?"

Ron blinked, aghast. "Wha–how did you—blimey. Are you telling me those things are actually in there?"

Arthur frowned as his wife's eyes brimmed with tears. "Hermione, have _you_ read the book?"

"Unfortunately."

"Why don't you tell us which things mentioned about the Dursleys are clearly not true." Her father-in-law continued. "All of us seem to have missed a lot."

Hermione bit her lip. For the first time this evening, she seemed more nervous than angry. "He didn't have any broken bones, limps, bruises, or cuts at the beginning of the year. Trust me, I would have noticed. I wanted to be friends with both Ron and Harry so I paid attention. Oh, and Harry's never 'flinched away' from touches, or any such nonsense."

"Skeeter wrote that?" Ron gaped at her. "Bloody hell. No, he definitely didn't do anything like that. Completely mental! Maybe this is rubbish after all."

"There were one or two things that were right." His wife hesitated. "Or not 'right', but do have a grain of truth in them. Harry's always been skinny, though never starved or malnourished. Also, while he's not claustrophobic, he's never loved small, closed off spaces. Though who does? Honestly, none of us have much liked it since the tent. Besides, Harry's never said anything about a cupboard or—"

"He mentioned that to us just now." George gave a dark scowl as he clutched his wand. "Implied it was real."

Hermione's jaw dropped open. "_What?_ No. Not possible. He would have told us or an adult—oh." Her fingers came up to her lips in realisation. She swirled on her husband, startling him with the sudden movement. "Minerva."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Non-sequitur." He shot back with a small grin.

"No, Minerva." Hermione insisted. "We went to her about the stone in first year and she didn't believe us, remember? She also took off far too many points and sent us to the forest for breaking curfew without listening to our side of the story."

Molly instantly jerked to attention, steam practically rolling from her ears. "_She actually sent you to_—"

"It happened ages ago, mum." Ron nervously halted the rant before turning back to his wife. "What's the point?"

"The point is," Hermione's anxiousness grew as the moments ticked away, "that Skeeter might be right about something. Harry had no reason to trust any adults: the Dursleys were horrible, Minerva refused to listen, Dumbledore was aloft and manipulative, Snape was…Snape, and Quirrel tried to murder him. It, it isn't shocking that he didn't go to anyone for help."

"What about us!" Ron protested, trying to hide his sinking feeling of doubt. "We'd have listened."

"Not much good we could do." George piped in. "Remember the bars that Summer? Sorry mum, but you didn't believe us."

"Wait, bars?" Molly looked from husband to the book, then back to her sons as realisation dawned. "You, you were telling the truth?" The last statement was more of a horrorstruck whimper than a whisper.

George nodded grimly. "It's our fault too. You'd have been mental to believe—Fred—and me after all the times we exaggerated things." He shook his head. "Merlin, Harry had the worst luck."

Ron choked back a snort. Hermione's lips twitched in a faint imitation of a smile. "You're telling us. It's like every little thing would go wrong around him, except when it was a matter of life and death."

"If I didn't know better," Ron leaned back in his seat, his amusement filtering away, "I'd have guessed he'd been cursed to have only extreme luck. Good thing it evened out after Hogwarts."

"You mean after the Master of Death fiasco." Hermione reminded him, practically chilling the room with her words.

"Ah," Ron made a face at the memory, "right, after that then. You said the books only go up to our 'seventh year'?"

"If I have it my way the second one won't even be published." Hermione said with a grim line set in her jaw. "But, yes. With any luck Skeeter's only planning to write up to the Battle of Hogwarts—any further, and I'm not sure even we can stop these horrible rumours."

A silence cluttered with tension filled the air. Until, that is, Fred decided that they'd been quiet for long enough. "OI!" He rapped on his canvas, drawing their attention. "Aren't you lot going to dig through those letters? This is an opportune moment to get blackmail on Harrikins!"

"Right you are." George chuckled, pretending that he'd gotten some dust in his eye. He stood up, balancing Fred Jr. on his hip. "I also want to check the book for something. If I remember correctly, our poor brother-in-law didn't have a handle on his name for the longest time."

"'Are you Harry Potter?'" Fred quoted his past self, a grin on his lips. His voice then went boyish and confused. "'Oh, him. I mean, yes, I am.' Ah, the wonderful witticisms of the 'boy-with-too-many-hyphens'."

Angelina sniffed, but gave a soft smile. "Don't forget him sticking his wand in the troll's nose. Merlin, you three must have given Minerva a heart attack."

Molly narrowed her eyes at her youngest son as people began heading towards the kitchen. "Ronald, we're going to have a long talk soon about all the things you 'forgot' to tell me!" Ron wisely edged away, giving nervous glances to everyone else. "_That's_ how you learned levitation? _You accepted a duel for your best friend?! Why didn't you tell us about the mirror and your worries? My poor boy! A DRAGON BITE? YOU WENT DOWN THE TRAPDOOR AND SACRIFICED YOURSELF?!_"

"And to think that Harry's interrogation will be so much worse." George softly chuckled, managing to see the humour in his mother chasing a terrified Ron into the kitchen, where the latter accidentally bundled head-first into the pool of letters.

* * *

"Da da da da da! Da da da!"

Harry couldn't help but grin as he gently pulled the blanket over his squirming son. "Nap time, Jamie. Plenty of time later to make your mum jealous."

"Excuse me?" Ginny softly said as she walked over, having finished putting Al in the pram. "Funny, and here I thought his first word was 'ma'."

"But he's clearly realised his mistake. Right Jamie?" Harry pulled a funny face, making his son giggle as he still tried to squirm out of the blanket. "We all know who your favourite parent is, don't we."

"Yep," Ginny grinned, looping her arms around her husband's waist, resting the side of her face against his back, "his fantastic mum who gives him biscuits."

"And vegetables." Harry pointed out, resting his hands against hers with a smile. "The boys love me best: I give them flying lessons."

She snorted. "You spin them around. I, on the other hand, will give them their first toy brooms."

"Not if I get them first."

"Oh, I'd like to see you beat me!"

"…plus, if I allow them to play _invisible_ Quidditch…" he sent a cheeky grin over his shoulder.

Ginny mock huffed. "Harry, are you seriously contemplating giving our kids mystical items?"

"It'd only be one. Anyway, it's a family heirloom."

She gave him a look, lifting her head slightly. "You want to give our babies a Deathly Hallow."

"Only when they're older." Harry partly assured her, before looking down with a soft smile at the no-longer-squirming toddler. "Hey, who'd have guessed. A bit of banter puts him right to sleep. Glad to see we're so interesting."

"Count your blessings." Ginny steered him out of the room, as they turned off the lights and flicked on an alert charm before quietly closing the door to the nursery. They glanced at each other. "So. Tea?"

"Sure." Harry leaned against the wall, his earlier frown replacing the recent grin. "If I say I don't want to talk about it, will it mean much?"

"Of course it will." She replied, walking towards the kitchen while she kept her hand clasped in her husband's. "If you don't want to, you don't have to." She paused, turning to look at him seriously. "You know I was just acting to help you escape from the interrogation."

"I know." He smiled faintly, swishing their enclosed fingers slightly. "Thank you again."

"But I am here to talk if you want to." Concern lingered over Ginny's words. She hesitated before the next, tightening her grip. "Also you, you know it will probably only get worse."

"I know." Harry repeated with a sigh. "Skeeter's still popular. This book is going to be a bestseller, and it'll drag up ridiculous things from ages ago."

Ginny again guided them towards the kitchen, keeping silent. Once there she regretfully detached her hand and moved to the counter. With a swish of her wand, water was boiling. "It will be a mess when we 'resurface'. Between the inevitable press conferences, denials, lawsuits—"

"—mess with the aurors, mess with the Ministry, mess with the general wizarding public." Harry finished counting off before giving a snort. "That's not even mentioning the family. Since the 'biography' seems to be a mix of truths and lies, they won't know what to believe. So I'll have to read the dratted thing at some point."

"Later." Ginny said firmly, pouring the finished tea and pushing one of the mugs over to Harry. She moved over to sit beside him, leaning against his shoulder. "We'll deal with it later. The public, Ministry and press can do whatever the hell they want, it's never stopped them before. Who cares what they think?"

He raised an eyebrow, though took a sip before answering. "It _is_ both of our jobs. Can't imagine the _Prophet_ will leave you alone."

"I write about Quidditch; they know better than to bother me about you." She frowned slightly, holding the hot mug to her nose to smell the chai. "The last lifestyle editor who tried had to go to her next gala with a pig's nose."

Harry tried—and failed—to hold back a laugh in remembering. "You still won't tell me what she even asked."

"You're too innocent, sweetie." Ginny smirked, before falling more serious and leaning further against him. "But that doesn't matter. None of them do when it comes to Skeeter's book. All of us who _do_ matter know who you are, and won't care about the lies."

"It's not only the lies." Harry groaned, placing the glass down. "Skeeter's dragging up things that were finished years ago! I've moved on,. Sure, I didn't particularly want people to ever know, but not because I thought it would 'hurt me' or some nonsense. I just don't think those bad memories deserve to have such importance."

"We get it." Ginny repeated, though a part of her wished she did know, for it was obvious that—whatever 'it' was—he was still dwelling on it. "The book is rubbish, and we just want to help. We're your family. We aren't going to make it worse by obsessing over the past."

"But they already are! Not you, but," Harry weakly protested, staring down at the tea, "at the shop, they were horrified when learning even a bit of it. Which is ridiculous, they knew my childhood wasn't brilliant, and why the hell would it matter? It was years ago!"

"They were surprised." She said gently, setting her cup down as her arm reached around to give him a half-hug. "We all were."

"There's 'surprised'." He replied tightly, though returned the hug. "Then there's 'interrogation'. They seriously want to question me about things that happened before Hogwarts?"

"We didn't know how bad it was." Ginny breathed into his ear, snuggling into the crook of his neck as her other arm swung around. "I don't know about them, but I felt awful."

"Don't." Harry wrapped her close to him. "Honestly, don't worry. I'm over it, it's done. Finished. I don't care."

"But we do. I do. Don't you see?" She spoke muffily into his hair. "We're your family. We're _supposed_ to worry."

"Doesn't mean I have to be questioned." He said grumpily, but understood. He pulled away slightly. "We don't have to go back immediately?"

"Not this weekend." Ginny's grin didn't quite reach her eyes. She sat back into her seat, swallowed another bit of her tea, before noticing that Harry was studying her. She turned to him with a questioning glance, one that became more concerned as she saw how her husband seemed to be fighting over his words.

"Do you really want to know?" Harry finally spoke, the question coming out in an uncertain huff. He shook his head, as though surprised that he'd even said that. "Look, Ginny, it's not really a secret. Especially not now, and I wasn't exaggerating: I am over it. Still, I don't want to keep secrets from you. It was just that these _weren'_tsecrets before. They were things that hadn't mattered in years. That's why I never told anyone. Not Ron, not Hermione, though they've probably suspected. Well, maybe not Ron. Probably Hermione."

She nodded in answer (yes, I understand, yes, I would love to know, yes, I want to help, yes, my brother's an idiot), intertwining her hand around her husband's. He sighed and leaned his head forward against hers. Only as his quiet breath matched the rhythm of her's did he continue to speak.

"It sounds melodramatic but, your brothers weren't really exaggerating. The Dursleys were—they were abusive." Harry bit out the last part as though under duress. She leaned closer and wrapped her arm around him, trying not to succumb to swelling anger and apparate to Privet Drive, and ignoring how her husband tried to shrug both it and her off. "They hated magic and they made it clear they hated me."

"Ron once mentioned that they put bars on your windows?" Ginny said hesitantly. "Mum thought it was a joke from the twins but … they weren't making it up, were they."

"No, they were telling the truth. For once." Harry chuckled hollowly. "It wasn't that rare a thing, even. Almost used to it."

"_Used to it_? What—what did they do?" Ginny whispered, her thoughts swirling from one horrible possibility to the next. She struggled against the dread pooling in her stomach. Harry, looking at his wife, realised his mistake.

"Oh Merlin, sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It really wasn't that bad." He sighed, annoyed at himself. "I know what Skeeter hinted at, but I swear they weren't violent." Ginny felt a weight lift off her shoulders though the tension still tersely remained.

"What did they do?" Ginny repeated, silently daring him to even try to lie to her. She thought back to her husband at Hogwarts: the handsome though skinny boy, who had no problems rescuing damsels in distress but was wary of very crowded rooms, who was surprised by the harmony of the Burrow and at her mum insisting that he eat more. "They starved you." The words slipped out of her lips before she realised it was the truth. Or that George had previously alluded to it. "Your—your slight claustrophobia. Did those monsters lock you up!?"

Harry fidgeted. She instantly turned red (realising she'd hit the bullseye) as he cast her a wary look. "No cursing the Dursleys! I mean it, this was years ago. Again, seriously, I'm over it."

"Clearly not." Ginny said angrily, still fingering her wand. "If you don't tell me what happened, never mind the dratted book. I'll go interrogate those blasted muggles myself!"

"What more do you want to know?" Harry said testily, frustration digging into his every word. "They despised me! Treated me like something repulsive while spoiling my cousin rotten. He got two bedrooms, I got the blasted cupboard under the stairs. They even told me my parents were drunks and that I was an 'ungrateful little freak'! Think of Sirius' delightful mum, all right? That was my bloody 'family'!" His breathing was heavy and halting by the end. Ginny got the impression he had revealed far more than he had meant to, but she didn't worry about that now.

"Cupboard under the stairs?" She said softly, gently catching her husband's chin in her hands as his expression shifted from enraged to horrified at what he'd said. "Those words you used, they called you that? A—a freak?" Her voice stuttered.

Harry, a lump in his throat, nodded tightly. He didn't trust himself to speak, wishing that the past few hours just hadn't happened and that the past remained just memories.

She breathed out slowly, hiccoughing. Coming out of her anger, she forced herself to try and calm down, remembering that this must be the last thing her husband wanted to talk about. "Some vacation this turned out to be." She found and squeezed his hand in silent support. He laughed with a bit of true amusement.

"To think it started out so incredible." Harry shifted his gaze from Ginny's eyes to her stomach. A smile couldn't help but appear. "You know what? Let's forget about this stupid mess. Not even Skeeter should be able to ruin this."

Ginny looked down as well, a matching grin forming. The anger wasn't forgotten, but she was happy to follow her husband's lead (for the time being). She let her free fingers hover above her chest, only lightly touching it. "Another one. Potter, why do I let you do this to me?"

"Why 'Potter', I'm not sure." Harry's grin was finally real and Ginny felt relief spiral through her. "But last time I checked, it took two people to—"

"—not a word!" She gave a faux groan. "Yes, it was fun, and the outcome will eventually be amazing. But _you're_ not the one who's going to be sick and fat and ugly and—"

"—you're always gorgeous, and the potion will—"

"—ironically horny," she glared at the interruption, though grinning slightly at this short return to their version of normality, "—for nine months straight. That's not even mentioning what comes after!"

"Labour, horrendously early morning awakenings, diaper changes, and dealing with another round of 'But I'm your kid and don't want a baby!' craziness from the boys?"

"Exactly!" She happily agreed, rubbing her belly with a widening smile. "Another mischievous little boy."

"Or girl."

"Or boy." Ginny sent him a look. "Weasleys are infamous for having male munchkins."

"Sure." Harry coughed discreetly, not mentioning that she'd become a bit too obsessed with a movie Hermione had introduced in a long ago film night. "Oh yeah, the Weasleys always have sons. That family would have no idea what to do if they _did_ have a girl. They'd probably do something barmy like name her 'Ginevra'! Imagine that."

"Git." She stuck her tongue out. "What I meant was: we're having another boy."

"I vote girl." He shrugged, swirling the now lukewarm tea. "I have a feeling."

Ginny gasped in fake shock. "Oh Merlin, Harry Potter's had 'a feeling'. Run for the hills!"

"Funny." But neither of them could stop grinning.

"You know I love you." She said flippantly. "So, how about we cast all conversation about Skeeter aside, ignore the fact that it will now be horrendously awkward to let anyone know I'm pregnant, and debate baby names?"

"God, no. At least for the last." He made a face. "How about we, like planned, have a relaxing family weekend?"

"After all the effort of putting the munchkins down for a nap? No." She shook her head resolutely. "Baby names!"

"Yeah, no. Again: no." Harry's smile slightly faded. "You take far too much pleasure in this. Do you remember that after Al your brothers interrogated me about name-hogging? They still refuse to believe I had nothing to do with it!"

"It is fairly unbelievable, dear." Ginny pointed out, her smirk flickering. "After all, what sort of sensible person would believe your protests?"

"Thanks." Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I mean, thank you for going with Jamie's name. I can't tell you how much it still means to me. But remind me, again, why you refused 'Arthur' for Al?"

"Because mum and dad don't want anyone named after them." She said, her tone reflecting how oft-repeated this conversation had been.

"But Percy's done that!"

"Because it's _Percy_." Ginny rolled her eyes. "Mum wouldn't stop bawling for ages."

"What about Al's name then?" Harry insisted. "I had nothing to do with that. _Someone_ was in labour and threatening to curse off my—appendage—if I didn't go with it!"

"I've already explained this. Numerous times." She repeated, her smirk never leaving. "Imagine having to sit for hours, listening to every insane name Luna could come up with while trying to slurp gurdyroot tea. 'Albus' and 'Severus' were the most normal of the batch. Then my water broke in the middle of the visit and the idiotic mediwitch insisted that our son have a name immediately!"

"That was the only name you could think of?" Harry said, still a touch defensive when remembering his appendage's close call.

"I was under duress, sweetie. Luna had gotten into my head."

"The point is," he continued, determined not to be thrown off topic, "I'm not going to be blamed for name-hogging again. Your brothers would actually kill me. Or set the fangirls loose."

Ginny thought for a moment before grinning. "Lily." She said primly, crossing her arms as though daring her husband to disagree. He gaped.

"… that, that utterly defeats the purpose! I mean, thank you, and yes I noticed that you mentioned a girl's name and—" he shook his head while her smirk widened, "—NO! Nope, I'm not doing this again."

"Lily Luna!" Ginny continued, unperturbed by his stubbornness.

"No, nuh-uh. I repeat: they will kill me, slowly and brutally. Do you want to be a single mum?"

"If it _is_ a girl," she cut in, "it's perfect. Has alliteration and all."

"That's supposed to be a selling point?"

Ginny clicked her tongue in a fake pout. "Some head of an ancient pureblood family you are."

"Half-blood." Harry drily pointed out, taking a sip of the now cold chai tea before making a face.

"Doesn't matter." She waved it away. "The name is sweet, honours your mother and a good friend, and is alliterative. It's perfect. So! Now that's done, we can figure out the actual name for our _son_. Harry Jr!"

"Merlin NO! Besides I still don't agree with 'Lily'."

"It's catchy! They're both catchy."

"Your brothers will use Unforgivables while setting fangirls on me. Fangirls armed with blood-thirsty, rabid bludgers. All riding in on a dragon. Probably an Horntail, knowing Charlie and his bloody humour."

"You are so overdramatic."

"They. Would. Murder. Me. Before resurrecting me—come on, don't tell me the twins couldn't figure something out—and doing it again and again! Yeah, there are definitely worse things than death, and going up against six brothers who think I've hurt their sister tops that list!"

"Melodramatic." Ginny smirked. "Play up the sympathy with Skeeter's slandering; you'll be fine."

"I—" Harry paused to contemplate this, before coming to his senses and shaking his head, "—no, still no! Even aside from getting me repeated killed, 'Harry Jr.' is an awful, egoistic name."

"Fine: the middle name can be Harry."

"No."

"Ron?"

Harry paused before shrugging, surprised at the decent suggestion. "Not as bad, still not good. Can we just assume it's a girl and go with Li—" he froze, realising what he was about to say.

"Hah!" Ginny beamed in triumphant delight. "Lily Luna it is. I think we're done here."

"Wait—aren't you convinced it will be a b…" he felt like he'd been blind-sided by a flying Ford Anglia as further realisation hit, "…oh Merlin, you…you…"

"Yes dear?" Ginny grinned, nimbly sipping her frozen tea before spitting it out with gag. Harry gaped.

"…you planned _all_ of this?" He burst out. "I don't, damn it, I'm not sure if I'm more impressed or annoyed. You're mental, love."

"Thank you." Her smile widened as she wiped off the tea. "But of course we're having a girl, don't be silly. Maternal instincts never lie. I just wanted to ensure there'd be no fuss over her name while distracting you from Skeeter. Two birds and all that."

"You're a genius." Harry said slowly. "Conniving, manipulative, and utterly bonkers."

* * *

After the grand escape of Dominique, Victoire, and Teddy, as well as the rescue mission of Louis, Fred, Molly and Rose from the adults' clutches, the kids high-tailed it upstairs to the attic to do who-knows-what. Andromeda, looking between the laughing children and the piles of letters, quickly voted herself as supervisor and ushered them away. The other parents were relatively appeased, though in looking again at the mounds of parchment to sort through (as well as the continuing arrival of owls), they all wished they'd been a bit faster to volunteer as child minder.

But whatever it was, they managed to make the sorting of letters at least partly entertaining.

"Listen to this one." Ron failed to bite back his grin, creasing the paper with colour changing ink. "'Dear Harry Potter,' blah blah blah, some stuff about being a fan for years and enjoying the biography, then: 'I realise you must get this question all the time, but I have to know. Do all snakes have Spanish accents?' Too perfect. Out of all the bloody things you could ask about!"

"Better than this blighter." George humphed before _incendio_ing the parchment and banishing the ashes. "Claims Harry's been practicing dark magic since he was one; figures that's how the killing curse back-fired. Barmy git. Even a first year would know that's rubbish."

"I have another marriage proposal here!" Bill called out from the other end of the pile. "Pictures too, so that brings my count up to five. You know, yeah, maybe it's actually a good thing Ginny isn't here."

"That's nothing." Angelina snorted, digging through the sea of papers. "The last one I read was a _chap_ from Cornwall proposing to him. Though these offers for adoption are the most disturbing. There must be dozens of them! They do realise he's twenty-seven and has two kids of his own, right?"

"I can't blame them for that." Molly sighed, pausing as she made yet another round of coffee in the small area around the counter that they'd managed to clear away. "That book made it all come back. About the little boy nervously asking about the platform, Percy's notes about how Ron and Harry were following in the twins' footsteps, Ron writing home about his new best friends and asking me to knit another sweater, Minerva's fire call that every Hogwarts' toilet seat cover had gone missing, Ginny hiding one in her closet…" her words dwindled off as she sniffed, wiping her eyes, "…it's so easy to remember you as children and now, now you're so big, have gone through far too much, and I, I am so proud of all of you, but it's, it's…"

"Aw, mum." George struggled through the perilous parchment to give his mother a well-deserved hug. "It's all right. See? Plus, now you have oodles of grandkids to spoil and knit sweaters for!"

"I know, it's just," Molly hesitated, pulling away from her son to look at the rest of the family in the room, "all these people are reading about Harry at eleven. They heard his story and _made offers of adoption_. Which is silly, of course, because it's years too late and…" her eyes again welled with tears, "…and it shouldn't have been too late! We were there, we could have taken him in and…"

"I don't think Ginny'd have appreciated that." Fred tried to break the tense atmosphere from up on the wall.

"Yeah," George gratefully took up the joke, "can't imagine she'd be pleased with incest. Horrible thought, really. Though does it count if they aren't blood related?"

"Oh you two," Molly swatted at George and sent a warning look at Fred, "shush! You know what I meant. We could have given the poor boy a proper family!"

"We did, mum." Ron said quietly, putting his mound of letters to the side. He glanced at a silently crying Hermione before turning back to Molly with a determined expression. "With Harry he's—he's always been my brother. I'm pretty sure he's considered the Burrow home since second year, and as for all of us? He, he…" he paused, trying to figure out his next words, "…look, you know his old photo album of his parents? I gave him some Weasley family photos after the graveyard. He's had them in there ever since."

Molly leaned against the counter, trying to regain her balance. "He, he—"

"Harry considers himself adopted." Hermione spoke breathily, tears streaming down her face. Ron reached over to take her hand. "He has since Hogwarts; he's always worn his heart on his sleeve." She blew her nose. "We knew the Dursleys were rubbish. But it didn't matter, or not as much as it should have, because he had us for siblings and the twins for big brothers. For you and Arthur? You've always been his mum and dad."

Ron nodded in instant agreement. Arthur moved forward to take his now-sobbing wife in his arms, though he was barely keeping a grip on similar tears.

* * *

**A/N:** Molly Molly Molly. I'm never sure what to do with her. While I love arguing with a friend of mine that the woman is more than a bit unhinged (destroying your kids' creations and alienating your daughter-in-law does not a good mum make), a part of me wants to squee when picturing her with Harry. For all her faults (but no, I don't go for the crazy Weasley!Bashing), Molly Weasley took an orphan in and happily became his mother figure.

While Molly, like all the adults in Harry's life, could have done more, she arguably did the most to help. And this was when _she was one of the few who was under no obligation to!_ It wasn't her responsibility, but she still all but adopted him and gave him a place to consider home by opening her arms to welcome a lost boy into her family. For that alone, she's freaking awesome (again, really guys, does anyone actually buy the manipulative!lovepotions!Weasley stuff?)

So yeah, I really do like her. Damn it, I keep talking myself out of disliking canon characters! Next thing you know I'll do something barmy like, say, support H/G or *shivers* Hr/R. The Horror!

**IMPORTANT! READREADREAD!** In other news, say you would love to see a Harry Potter/Doctor Who crossover about the TARDIS crash landing in Hogwarts with Ten and Donna onboard. Then say you'd be interested in seeing a rough draft first chapter of said upcoming fic, a preview which just-so-happens to be in a contest where those who enjoy the fic can *heart* the entry if they liked it. There's a bow tie and fez on the line peeps, and I want to be cool, damn it! The Queen of Cool! Oh, that doesn't sound good at all. Never mind, never saying that again. Anywho, thank you so much and I hope you enjoy (just delete the brackets around ':/'): http**[:/]**figment**.**com/books/605448-Right-Magic-Magic-eh-Maaagggiiic- 


	5. The Man With Two Faces

**A/N:** Exams? Done! Flat moving? Fini! Zombie apocalypses? On hold! Graduation? Around the corner! Three months of nothing but trips and writing? _Yayness!_

I'm already crazy excited about next year because my new flatmates L, S and N are totally awesome. It's the House of Cake; the House of Errol; the One Flat To Rule Them All; the flat of our uni's Harry Potter Society's President, Treasurer, Head of Ravenclaw, and Head of the Hufflepuff Glorious Revolution! Unsurprisingly, we possess every HP, Sherlock, LotR, and Doctor Who memorabilia known to man and monkey. Running into L's David Tennant life-size cut-out in the kitchen at 3am only adds to our flat's supermegafoxyawesomehotness! Though, it's only a matter of time before I wake up everyone with a high-pitched shriek of terror…

Also, thank you so much to everyone who looked at my crazy little Figment writing! :)

**General Disclaimer:** I am neither J.K. Rowling or a reporter. But I am so, so sorry for the following travesty.

* * *

Excerpt from 'THE LIFE AND LOVES OF HARRY POTTER'

Eleanor Branstone, _Witch Weekly_'s Lifestyle and Fashion Reporter

…the emerald blouse Rita Skeeter sports in this issue's cover shot will surely be sold out by day's end. With the recent turn of fashion away from the sadly dry magical styles, this author cheerfully stays in trend with muggle High Street outfits. Get her entire look _now_ with a quick trip to Zara's, multiple branches located from London to Edinburgh! Rumour has it that this Spanish powerhouse has begun catering to their magical clientele, where their newest shop can be visited under Loch Ness with a handy bubble-head charm.

But fashionable clothes or no, with these photos of Rita's enviably youthful look our readers will be racing off to America for bottled fountain of youth.

"No, there's nothing in the water." The enchanting writer laughed at the suggestion. Our light conversation up until then had been on how difficult it is to find proper tea abroad (Rita's tip? If heading to Salem, skip the touchy flavouring charms that more often than not dye your tongue blue. Instead, go native and drink coffee). "No work either, believe it or not! Healthy living and a good bit of running about for hot scoops is all I need to stay young."

Which brought us to Rita's piéce de resistance: her deliciously risqué biography on the mysterious heartthrob, the Man Who Conquered. Harry Potter surely needs no introduction. All of us have been his fangirls at one point or another, don't even try denying it! Most reading this still treasure posters of his impromptu shot for his sixth annual voting as Mr. 'Most Charming Smile'; for me, at least, said grin has been kissed once, twice…a few dozen times over. Unsurprisingly, countless hearts were broken when Mr. Potter 'retired' from being Bachelor of the Year to marry his longtime sweetheart and the celebrated Quidditch Chaser, Ginny Weasley (who similarly wrecked her streak as top bachelorette). Teen icon and War Hero turned Head Auror and family man. What more is there to know?

"Oh, you'd be surprised." Rita grinned at the question, leaning forward as though we were simply two friends exchanging juicy gossip. "The life story of Harry Potter is a reporter's and biographer's dream come true. That man has been racing towards adventure from the get go, and has collected more than a handful of skeletons in that closet of his along the way. Goodness knows how much inner turmoil he's been hiding from the world."

Was this a reference to her claims regarding Mr. Potter's childhood?

"That's only the start of it!" She waved it away. "Certainly the abuse impacted him, but that's barely the surface of what my interviews uncovered. But, oh, my publisher will panic that I'm giving away the future books…"

Not even a little sneak peek?

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt. After all, there's no such thing as bad publicity." Rita winked before humming in thought, no doubt sorting through which tidbits to share to her anxiously awaiting audience. "The next biography covers Mr. Potter's second year at Hogwarts, the Chamber of Secrets, Ginny Weasley's—now Potter's—involvement, and his first true sways towards dark magic. But what am I saying? Your readers don't care about that! The steamiest scandals come later. The multiple love triangles between Harry Potter, then Hermione Granger, Viktor Krum, and various Weasleys is of particular interest, as is the 'odd' Dumbledore-Potter relationship that was touched on in my previous work. But my personal favourite? The very revealing fact that a certain Boy Saviour spent his sixth year at Hogwarts stalking Draco Malfoy."

Are you saying that…

"…Mr. Potter plays for both teams?" Rita grinned as we relished the excitement that accompanies head-turning revelations. "You'll have to read to find out."

_What?_ Merlin, no! You can't leave us in suspense.

Rita paused before thankfully relenting. "It's not very well known, but Ron Weasley was once magically chosen as the person Mr. Potter would most sorely miss. Add this to his rumoured infatuations with Oliver Wood, Cedric Diggory and Viktor Krum, alongside the allegations concerning Ginny Potter and Amorentia? I'm sure you can see the picture."

Oh my Wizarding Gods! You heard it here first: us fangirls never stood a chance. With a divorce surely now on the horizon…boys? I hate you all so, so very much.

* * *

'RISE AND FALL' CLIMBS THE CHARTS WITH NO END IN SIGHT!

Padma Patil, Lead Writer for _Flourish and Blotts' Weekly Newsletter_

The controversial author and former _Daily Prophet _reporter, Rita Skeeter, has triumphantly returned to Britain with this season's must have biography. Known for her scandalously irresistible writing, the recent publication of her "The Rise and Fall of Harry J. Potter" has taken the wizarding world by storm. This unofficial biography of the Man Who Conquered fills a niche in the market which was previously unoccupied due to the Potters' and Weasleys' stringent control on books concerning their family _produced_ in Britain. It was therefore primarily due to Skeeter's involvement with an outside American publisher (beyond the reach of the British Ministry and the Potter-Weasley political faction) that the usual steps to halt the biographies due to copyright infringement policies could not be taken. Likewise controversial writers, take note: if the publication is effectively outsourced, British law cannot interfere.

With this, the public has already become torn. Many have rallied to protest against the Ministry's blatant attempt at censor, while others are vehemently decrying Skeeter for her apparent libel against Potter. But the author in question is taking this entire controversy straight to Gringotts. Pre- and first weekend sales are already estimated to shatter the records made by her previous work, "The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore". With international sales likewise streaming in, there seems to be little doubt that Skeeter will once again top the bestsellers.

* * *

Partial Transcript from Wizarding Wireless' 'PURE AND PROUD'

"…ridiculous that with any criticism the Ministry starts squawking, 'Ohh, DARK WIZARD!' Seriously? Sure, Fudge was horrid, Scrimgeour hadn't time to change things a wick, and let's not get into Thicknesse, but Shacklebolt makes me miss Millicent Bagnold. Now _there_ was a leader! Though she came under fire with the Black scandal, she was the epitome of a pureblood. Running the First War while ensuring that our traditions didn't fall to the wayside? That was a true leader. Paranoia and fear were everywhere, but at no time did the reigning members of this society feel like they would be prosecuted for their beliefs."

"It's like the Treason and Sedition Acts in the 1700s."

"Really Zabini? Another history lesson? Merlin. Are you trying to lose _all_ our listeners?"

"It's relevant! You were the one ranting away about preserving traditions. Look, the problem is that Potter and Weasley—who everyone knows are the real powers 'behind the throne'—are slipping policies in under the table, tightening the Ministry's otherwise liberal hold over the people, and suppressing our conservative voices."

"…what 1700s acts? Would it kill you to explain _anything_?"

"You seriously slept through every one of Binns' classes, didn't you. Merlin Pansy, at least tell me you know about the French Revolution?"

"Of course I do! I'm not a blasted mudb—hem, _muggleborn_. What, the French muggle peasants decided to overthrow their monarchy and the wizards took over through Imperius Curses and the like to begin the Terror, ensuring that their country didn't go the way of ridiculous places like America. But last I checked, Potter wasn't guillotining people. Nor were we."

"That…wasn't what I meant. It was the British response to the French that was interesting and, you know, relevant. There was a fear that Jacobinism—"

"What?"

"—it's a radical, liberal ideology prominent in the French sans-culottes at the time. That is, the French muggle protesters. When the imperiuses started flying the French wizards changed 'Jacobinism' from the rather liberal enlightenment ideals to a conservative focus on the cleansing of the muggle crowd. Magical Britain looked at this cautiously, fearing both of these extremes. When the French issued their Edict of Fraternity—"

"_What?_"

"—it was a policy where the French wizards promised to help radicals in other countries overthrow their governments. Unsurprisingly, the British Ministry wasn't pleased. They became right paranoid, actually, and started passing strident loyalism acts to try and stamp out these so-called 'British Jacobins'. These acts ranged from charging any critics with treason, aiding loyalist associations with their burnings of Thomas Paine—no, don't ask—and support of the Volunteer Corps, suppressing revolutionary writings, and enacting heavy censorship over anything the government was even slightly uncomfortable with. You don't like the King's outfit? Here's a lifetime in gaol!"

"Honestly, why can't you ever get to the point without a useless lecture? No, don't answer, it's rhetorical. Merlin. For any listeners who got lost: what Blaise's trying and failing to say is that Potter's and Weasley's suppression of pureblood freedom of speech has finally gone too far. _Off with their heads!_"

"Yeah…no. What I _meant_ was that, when even that joking statement of yours could get you sent to Azkaban, we know something's gone horribly wrong. So we should learn from history. We're a democratic republic and it's about time we acted like it! The muggles are still held up on at least the idea of constitutional monarchy, and the Potter-Weasleys are trying to transform our government into a nespotic oligarchy. Viva la révolution, I say. Follow Rita Skeeter! Potter's had tight control over everything related to his person. Which, normally, would be fine. But he's _not_ just an individual. He's Harry Bloody Potter! A major public figure, international figurehead for Britain, leader of the Potter-Weasley coalition and, because of him and Weasley, we aren't allowed to say a damn word against him or the government he represents!"

"Exactly the problem. Sure, he's a War Hero. Big whoop. The man makes mistakes but everyone's so afraid of being sued that no one will speak up. Skeeter's the true hero in this story: a courageous woman who's battling the horrible censorship surrounding our leaders."

* * *

'WHO TALKED?'

Sally-Anne Perks, _The Moon_'s Lifestyle Reporter

From abuse, adventures, and scandalous toeing of the dark side, there's only one question on everyone's lips today: who gave author Rita Skeeter an inside look on Harry Potter's life? If her "The Rise and Fall of Harry J. Potter" was not so overly critical of the monikered hero, readers flocking to the bookstores would assume from the immense amount of details that this was an autobiography. But instead, the loosely veiled accusations towards the Head Auror and the Man Who Conquered reads as though Miss Skeeter was lucky enough to come upon the Holy Grail of all Pensieves.

While the Ministry is already decrying many of the books' facts, it's clear that Miss Skeeter hit far too close to the truth for comfort. Indeed, as we are discussing the infamously private life of Mr. Potter (a man who's grown up in fame, though has consistently avoided the spotlight), it is nothing less than a miracle that "The Rise and Fall" was able to be written at all.

Candidates for who might have revealed the intimate aspects of Mr. Potter's life reads like a who's who of British wizarding society. This is hardly surprising, as he and his close friends revolutionised the Ministry and auror forces following their very public ending of the Second War. This report will thus examine who had the knowledge of Mr. Potter's exploits as well as the motivation to contact or talk to Miss Skeeter. Thankfully for all of your attention spans, the list of people close to this notorious 'man of mystery' is extremely short, as an extreme show of loyalty would be required for him to even consider revealing aspects of his personal life.

With this, we must begin by examining one Luna Scamander née Lovegood. Daughter of the late Xenophilous Lovegood, Ex-Editor-in-Chief of _The Quibbler_, Mrs. Scamander knew Mr. Potter at Hogwarts and convinced him to give her family magazine an exclusive interview. For any other celebrity this would not be worth noting, but the interview in question concerned the Boy Who Lived's recount of You Know Who's rebirth. This testimony was not only crucial as a buffer against the contemporary Ministry's smear campaign against those who claimed the Dark Lord had returned, but also marked _the only personal interview Mr. Potter has ever given_. Every one of his public announcements since have either been at Second War memorials, or in official standing within the auror office. Mrs. Scamander's access to this information is thus stunning, and her notoriously 'unique' demeanour makes it all the more likely that she would reveal her reporter capabilities and take this story of a lifetime to Miss Skeeter.

Moving on, there are two people who can be crossed off the list of likely suspects. One of Mr. Potter's best friends (and rumoured former flame) Hermione Weasley née Granger has been an adamant voice at the Ministry protesting Miss Skeeter's work as wholly fictional and merely an attempt to wreck a good man's reputation. As the Departmental Head of Magical Law Enforcement, she has also been behind previous rebuffs against other unofficial biographies concerning Mr. Potter and others within their tightly knit group. All of this makes it extremely unlikely that she would contact her former enemy Miss Skeeter, though it should not be ignored that Mrs. Weasley was one of the few 'characters' in the first book to come out clean as a whistle.

The other unlikely candidate is Mr. Potter's wife, Ginevra (Ginny) Potter née Weasley. While there have been whispers of Amorentia since the beginning of their relationship, the couple have been happily married for years and have two delightful boys (James Sirius and Albus Severus) who have already become public favourites. Though not as well-known as her husband, Mrs. Potter was a famous Quidditch Chaser in her own right. This reporter thus cannot see what she would gain from going to Miss Skeeter, as she would merely risk the pleasant life she's built.

Instead of focusing on any of these women, suspicion ought to fall on certain other members of the Weasley family, who Mr. Potter has always been close to and even married into. The prime two suspects here are brothers to Mrs Potter. Percival (Percy) Weasley infamously fell out from his family and Mr. Potter at the start of the Second War, believing the contemporary Ministry's smear campaign that proclaimed You Know Who to be dead and a non-threat. Though they eventually rekindled, rumour has it that things never returned to what they once were, and that relations between him and his famous brother-in-law remained frosty—something which was not aided by the latter's quick rise in the political sphere that Mr. Weasley so prized. Yet, while Percy Weasley's involvement seems rather certain, this reporter considers this to be missing the even more obvious brother. Ronald (Ron) Weasley has always been in the shadow of his best friend, Mr. Potter. Friends since eleven, Mr. Weasley notoriously stabbed the hero in the back twice: the first being during the 1994-1995 Triwizard Tournament which Mr. Potter was to win at great cost, and the other during their 1997 flee from the corrupt British Ministry under You Know Who's reign. The first was simply a childish fight of jealousy, but the latter was intensely telling. Mr. Weasley both blamed Mr. Potter for the hardship that had befallen our world, and accused him of falling for his current wife, Mrs. Hermione Weasley. This second fight resulted in Mr. Weasley leaving both of two best friends in the cold wood without a thought, not caring about the hurt and turmoil he was sentencing them to.

Mr. Weasley's and Mr. Potter's relationship has, since their first train ride to Hogwarts, tugged between loyal friendship and jealous bouts of anger. With Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Potter as close as ever, it would not be a stunning revelation to learn that Miss Skeeter's biography marked Mr. Weasley's third and final act of misplaced revenge.

* * *

_Harry!_

Don't panic, everything's as good as can be here (aka: the Ministry hasn't completely fallen apart), but I needed you to get this before you saw an article. _I didn't talk!_ Perks is a bloody idiot, and who'd believe anything that's in a rag like _The Moon_ anyway? But still, seriously Harry, I would never talk to a reporter about you—let alone that beetle. I haven't seen Percy yet, but I can tell you he wouldn't have done this either. None of us would have.

I was a jealous git as a kid, but I'd never turn on family by airing stupid rumours to the public. So why the hell would I do that to my brother now? Mental, Perks is. Always knew there was something shifty about her. Still…she has one point. I was a bloody idiot at times, especially for never apologising. So, look. Don't take the mick, but when I saw the dragons in fourth year I couldn't stop thinking you were going to die without your best mate. After the locket mess, I was frantic I'd never see you or Hermione again and bloody well furious at myself. At Shell Cottage I kept rehashing you flinging that badge at my head, how you'd stopped me from apologising after the dragons, how I'd tried to talk Hermione into leaving the tent too, and how I was a bastard for shouting about your parents and…mate…I am so sorry. I was immature, jealous, and wrong about all of it. So, thanks. You know, for putting up with my stupidity. While apparently falling in unrequited love with me. Or Wood, Diggory, Krum, and the ferret—seriously, the hell is Skeeter smoking?

By the way, never tell Hermione I was this 'emotional' and 'sensitive'; I'll deny it all while laying the blame on you. Oh and, on the note of my very scary but brilliant wife, she's after your head. Well, she's actually after Ginny's for 'hiding' you, but she's about to start hexing. So when you do surface make sure you're carrying Jamie or Al as a shield.

Cheers,

Ron

* * *

'INVASION OF THE WRACKSPURTS!'

Luna Scamander, _The Quibbler_'s Corresponding Zoologist

Chaos resounds across Britain following Rita Skeeter's ill-timed journey from the United States. Skeeter failed to immunise herself, and thus irresponsibly brought back to her unprepared home nation an untold number of Wrackspurts from their native habitat along the North American eastern seaboard. We at _The Quibbler_ hope that the Ministry is looking into awareness campaigns to ensure that this mistake is not repeated.

With a single go, Skeeter managed to exponentially increase the British population of the creatures overnight, and a continued rise is estimated in the coming weeks. We encourage the public to stay away from Skeeter's likely contaminated books, or anything that holds her picture (for that which holds the image of a Wrackspurt becomes the Wrackspurt itself).

While a certain number of Wrackspurts on one's person is harmless and, indeed, inevitable, this escalated population has reached dangerous levels. Symptoms of overexposure range from dazedness, dizziness, gullibility, an irresistible need to scapegoat, and the overall loss of common sense. If you feel that you've been infected, there is no need to panic. Distance yourself from any contaminated writing, clear your head, go to your happy place, and embrace the all-mighty power of fridge logic.

For especially bad cases, we recommend that you refamiliarise yourself with any _official_ history book concerning the Second War. That ought to clear out any lingering Wrackspurts!

* * *

Ron,

Are you…are you completely mental? Yeah, I saw _The Moon_, but why'd you think I'd take that seriously? Thanks for letting me know, but it was obvious you weren't 'the leak'. Or Percy, or any of the Weasleys. You, your family, and Hermione have always been there for me, and I've never thought that any of you would do that. The very idea of it's actually pretty funny: Ginny's just reading the article and can't stop laughing, though she's a bit put off she wasn't even a suspect. She's humphing that the reporter's clearly never been through labour, and doesn't know how homicidal that can make someone towards their husband.

…yeah, I probably shouldn't have written that. Sorry for putting the image in your head!

About the apologies? They weren't necessary and I forgave you years ago, but thank you all the same. You've always been my best friend and brother, and so those fights were just that—fights. We both got angry, we both said things we regret, we were both wrong, and we both got over it. Perks is an oblivious prat to call it 'betrayal', even though she couldn't have known about the locket's influence. Mate, we're both hot-headed; it's part of being Gryffindors.

As for Hermione being after me, I'll be away from the office for a bit still (sorry!) but I sent her a letter that should, hopefully, somewhat appease the press. Also? One more word about Skeeter's insinuations about my 'love affairs' or sexual orientation, and I'll tell Ginny that you spread those particular rumours. If you think Hermione's scary, you've clearly never seen your sister in a proper rage and threatening to curse off…something.

Harry

* * *

**Memo From:** Hermione Weasley

**To:** Entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement

**Subject:** What Am I Paying You For!

**Attachment:** List of potential suspects

Since none of my earlier queries have been answered, I am asking all of you _again _one simple thing: how the bloody hell did we miss this!? We should have had ample warning of Rita Skeeter's plans. Instead, we heard about it with the rest of the world. Skeeter's good but not that good. If any of you let this sneak past, mark my words…I will find you. That 'rumour' concerning a wanna-be prankster and an 'accidentally' ingested canary cream prototype? Once I get through with you, you'll be wishing you'd only been stupid enough to attempt to place a dungbomb in my office.

Maybe some of you are questioning why we're focusing on this headache. Might I remind you that this ridiculous book is accusing Harry Potter (a 'wizarding saviour' and the Head Auror) of a number of things, not least of which is an ambition towards dark magic when he was _eleven_ and will surely lead up to heftier allegations? The press is having all of our heads, riots against the Ministry seem inevitable, international questions have been pouring in, and tensions between us and the muggle world have become stretched to the breaking point due to Skeeter's heavy inclusion of the Dursleys' horrendous actions! It's a problem, a big problem, and now we have to deal with it. You don't like it? Too bad.

If anyone is in agreement with the outcry from the media concerning my politics, I reiterate that freedom of speech is a wonderful, sacred right to be embraced. _But blatant libel crosses the line from this personal freedom to the impeachment of others' rights!_ If you somehow got through your law program without learning this, I'm afraid it's time you transferred to another department. On a similar note: yes, Harry Potter and myself are good friends. Yes, I have aided him in blocking previous 'biographies' which made horrendously false accusations against him of a criminal nature. However, I have also taken actions against likewise terrible excuses of fables labelled as the 'truth' from as wide a range of persons as Neville Longbottom, Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape, and Tom Riddle (Lord Voldemort).

I have absolutely no issue with true biographies, or stories which are admitted by their authors to be false. But when writers claim that Harry Potter is a fledging Dark Lord, that Draco Malfoy is a veela with a harem (including Harry and Ginny Potter, the departed Severus Snape, and myself), or that Tom Riddle was only misunderstood and wanted to aid half-bloods/muggleborns against the pureblood elite led by Albus Dumbledore, then of course I have a problem with parading ridiculous excuses of fiction as fact! Yet even with all of that, I have never outright blocked any of these publications from going to press. Instead, I informed the writers that heavy lawsuits would be in their futures. Unfortunately, Rita Skeeter is smarter than most and brought in a third party nation to sneak this rubbish in before deterrent action could be taken. So, yes, for this book she's untouchable. But that doesn't mean we can't stop the rest of her plan from coming to fruition. Which brings us to the things that I needed finished yesterday (I mean it: commandeer a bundle of time turners from the Department of Mysteries if you must):

Convince Ginny Potter to let her husband go. Storm their manor if need be! I can't believe that man thought a written statement of denial would be enough.

Fetch the portrait of Albus Dumbledore from Hogwarts. Ask Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, she's been briefed on the situation.

Curtail the anxiousness with the aurors as much as possible, laying emphasis on the fact that their boss will return soon. Help this through with Ron Weasley, the Deputy Head Auror.

Ensure there are round-the-clock guards at 4 Privet Drive and residences of both the Potters and the Weasleys. Don't bother with Hogwarts or the entrance to the Ministry—the protections on those could stop a small army. The threat of riots in other places is thankfully low at this early stage, but keep the aurors and Hit-Wizards on stand-by; I can only imagine the chaos that the rest of Skeeter's books could bring.

Put whatever stop you can to the betting rings. Start with questioning George Weasley. On that note, no, I will not give anyone 'hints', nor will my husband. No, don't ask him. Yes, I will know if he says anything. Yes, I will punish you both accordingly.

Dose the Dursleys with Veritaserum immediately. Get into their holding cell by contacting the Yard. Question them on both Skeeter's allegations and concerning their placement on the attached list.

Aside from the Dursleys, get everyone on the attached list in as soon as possible for imperius/obliviation testing or questioning.

Get Skeeter's publishers on call as well as the American Magical Ambassador. Find out these things:

Is she under contract for all seven books?

When is the second volume's planned release?

Find out how many countries they've sent this to, and the _exact_ international/domestic numbers as well as estimated future rates.

Try and get your hands on these novels, Johanna Rawthorne, or Rita Skeeter herself.

I need press conferences to continue 24/7 to try and wade in these allegations before the press truly goes for the jugular. Book myself, Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, and Ginny Potter as many interviews as possible in the coming weeks. In addition, keep a close eye on the papers and 'politely request' retractions from any that get too out of order.

* * *

Excerpt from 'POTTER'S ARMY?'

Cassandra Hex, _Daily Prophet_ Reporter

"…found out about it by accident." Zacharias Smith continued nonchalantly, taking a sip of gillywater as the crowds in The Three Broomsticks buzzed past. "Granger was talking to some of my House mates and it sounded like a laugh. The Boy Who Lived, you know? He was always within his little group, so the thought of really talking to the guy sounded brill. We all grew up with the stories so of course I was curious. Especially since he was tight-lipped about his so-called adventures."

Smith went on to mention with regret his, at the time, disbelief that You Know Who had truly resurrected. Yet this sceptical opinion was typical in 1995, which was when Fudge's Ministry vehemently opposed Harry Potter's and Albus Dumbledore's insistence that there was any threat to Britain.

"Most of us started coming to hear what Potter had to say." Smith stated, his eyes growing dark in remembrance. "Only, his inner group was overprotective to the extreme. They deflected all our tries for the truth off—no change there, right? But after the first few meetings it became obvious this wasn't just a DADA study group like Granger claimed. Sure, I'll admit that Potter was in his element teaching us spells. The problem was _what_ curses we were learning…"

* * *

**A/N:** I love the idea that the Golden Trio's generation was able to clean up the Ministry, but it's not as though they can't do any wrong. Harry, Hermione and Ron might have brilliant morals, but some of their decisions will inevitably come under fire. After the insanity they had to put up with during the war, I can easily see them taking censorship arguably one step too far in an effort to protect their own. Sure, Skeeter's the villain, but even the purebloods would have a valid criticism against our lovely heroes.

If you're following a bunch of my stories, thank you so much, and I am so sorry for throwing so many fake news articles at you :)


End file.
